


My Thunderstorm, His Hurricane

by 8ucky8arnes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Lydia Martin, Bisexual John, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Medical Torture, Mentioned Allison Argent, Mutant!Lydia, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-05-01 09:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 130
Words: 26,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14517555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ucky8arnes/pseuds/8ucky8arnes
Summary: "He is my thunderstorm, the lightning coursing through my veins. I am his hurricane, his colorful bow of rain." - Melody LeeA Teen Wolf/Gifted crossover (kind of...)Lydia Martin is a mutant that has stumbled into the Mutant Underground. She is haunted by her past and predictions, frightened of the death following her like a shadow. She knows better than to get close to anyone, yet she finds herself drawn to John Proudstar in a way that could only spell trouble for them both...





	1. Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This story will start sometime before Season 1 and I plan on having it go through to the finale if possible). Since a lot of my other fics have 2,000+ worded chapters, I thought I'd try challenging myself to restrict the chapters to 200 words instead (because why not?) and it'll alternate between John and Lydia's POV every five chapters. I'm not entirely sure how long it'll be, but I hope everyone can hang in there with me!
> 
> Without further ado, let's begin...

John’s senses picked up movement at the edges of HQ, flashes of bare feet covered in mud, stringy wet hair, and odd gait that painted a confusing picture. He didn’t see anyone following her but decided it best to grab Lorna and Marcos, who didn’t ask questions as they stepped outside into the pouring rain. 

They found her walking slowly along the southern perimeter, as though in a trance. She hadn’t noticed their approach despite the fact that they were in her field of vision and it wasn’t until he saw her eyes that he realized that she wasn’t really _there_ , her hazel depths vacant when she finally turned her head in their direction.

John stepped forward first, his voice soft.

And then she screamed.

John fell to his knees and clamped his hands over his ears. The sound was unlike anything he’d ever heard, a piercing wail that drove into his head like a jackhammer and he was faintly aware of Lorna and Marcos covering their ears nearly fifty yards back.

Ten seconds passed as the sound trailed off and she swayed on her feet.

He regained his bearings in time to catch her before she hit the ground. 


	2. Awaken

She was catatonic for the rest of the night, but John stayed with her.

He’d ignored their shock and concern at seeing the red dripping from his ears, waving them away with a stern _I got this_. John waited until the two had left the room before rising and cleaning the blood, grabbing the inventory checklist from his office and pulling up a chair.

John knew the second she became aware of her surroundings, setting down the paper and pen, holding up his hands when she saw him and nearly scrambled backward off the makeshift bed. He said nothing at first as her head whipped back and forth from him to the walls of the room.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

He was surprised that she’d managed a calm voice when everything he saw said the exact opposite. He handed her a glass of water, waiting until she took it from him to respond, “My name is John and this is the Mutant Underground.”

He was sure Lorna would kill him for saying _that_ much to someone who’d just…appeared.

“Lydia.” She drained the whole glass, “Where is that?”

“Atlanta.”

Her eyes widened and she cursed under her breath.


	3. Break

John pinched the bridge of his nose at all the activity, the daily headache worsened on account of the new group of arrivals coming and going, kids running around, feet sounding on hardwood and gravel, their heartbeats like drums in his head. Pounding, pounding, _pounding_ …

“John?”

_Crack._

Lydia stood in the doorway, her lips pursed in concern as a piece of the desk broke in his hold and clattered to the floor. She sighed, shutting the door and plopping herself down on the couch, “You seem overwhelmed.”

He leaned back in the chair, wincing as plastic creaked, “Nothing I’m not used to.”

A raised brow, “So you break furniture often?”

He smiles and shakes his head, “It happens.”

Lydia stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing as she leaned forward and for a moment she looked like she’d go into that trancelike state again, “The headaches… they have something to do with your abilities right?”

John shrugged, “Partially.”

Her expression turned wistful and sad like she’d been reminded of something.

He hadn’t gotten around to asking about her life leading up until she’d come here yet, knowing better than to push the girl he’d found wandering a daze.


	4. Interview

“How did you find this place?”

John sighed at the aggressive tone that Lorna had taken with Lydia and if it hadn’t been for his enhanced sight, he would’ve missed the momentary tightening of her shoulders when she raised a brow as if not appreciating the tone. Whoever she’d been before coming here, Lydia had masking skills of someone who’d spent a _long_ time hiding her emotions…

She exhaled, “I don’t know.”

John narrowed his eyes. There was something off about the response… like it’d been well rehearsed due to people not believing the truth. He didn’t say anything, figuring she wouldn’t like being called out.

“If you’re so worried about me, go ahead and pull up my records.”

John looked over at Lorna, who’d looked almost surprised at Lydia’s nonchalant tone.

“Alright then. Last name?”

He almost missed the flicker of fear in her eyes and John wasn’t sure what to make of it, she’d practically invited the invasion. He watched that calm mask settle into place once more.

_Was she afraid of them finding out what she did?_

He remembered the questions she’d asked after coming out of her trance.

_Or was she afraid of finding out herself?_


	5. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mention of attempted rape

John felt the change in the air moments before Lorna’s heart-rate spiked and half the computers short-circuited, Marcos pulling her away before they all needed replacing. He mentally added new monitors to the inventory as he came to stand next to an equally agitated Sage.

He worried at the contents of Lydia’s file, conscious of her presence in the far corner of the room…

Sage left her chair in the direction of Lorna.

He sat and began to read.

Lydia Martin. Twenty-three years old and born in Beacon Hills, California. It was the premonition of 7/15 that got finally got her taken into custody by Sentinel Services only days later. In the time she was kept for observation, she saw nothing more than ghosts and whispers, slipping in and out of catatonic states. They deemed her not a threat, convincing her mother to send her to the nearby mental facility named Eichen House, where she’d been residing for years before an orderly took a liking to her, which had then led to an attempted rape nearly a week ago that ended with a catatonic Lydia and a dead orderly…

The mouse shattered in his clenched fist.

Lydia flinched violently.


	6. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mention of attempted rape

Lydia almost wished she hadn’t given them the go head, deciding it best to give Lorna, Marcos, and John a wide berth. She knew what was coming and she hated it: the pitying eyes and the walking on eggshells…

Instead, she hung around the children and watched one levitate pebbles while another created small flashing lights. She still longed for abilities such as theirs, hating the _years_ she’d spent in Eichen House going through rounds of drug and electroshock therapy and what it had led up to…

_“I promise to be gentle.”_

_“No… please…”_

She shook her head, trying to erase the feeling of one hand encircling her wrists and pinning her arms above her head while the other pushed aside thin white cotton… Lydia clenched her own trembling hands into fists, forcing a smile as the two girls began an all-out war of pebbles and sparks.

She noticed him in her peripheral, leaning against the doorway with what she could only guess was that intense, piercing stare of his. Lydia of two years ago might’ve been flattered by the attention of an attractive man, but she’d learned the hard way that sometimes being invisible was a more preferable option.


	7. Wait

She was curled up on the couch in John’s empty office in the smallest ball she could manage, trying not to be too freaked out by how quickly John had left after staring at her rather intensely minutes before. She’d only been there two days, but he didn’t seem like the one to worry over someone in such an obvious way.

Lorna’s reaction scared her too, the woman looking like the type where most things seemed to just roll off her shoulders. Yet there was something in her eyes… a frightened, caged look like she’d just seen a ghost…

(Lydia knew that feeling all too well)

There was a knock on the door and Lydia looked up to see Marcos peeking his head into the room, an unreadable emotion in his dark eyes when he saw her position. “Can I come in?”

She shrugged.

He sat on the other side of the couch, looking a little unsure.

She smiled halfheartedly, “You can say whatever you need to say.”

Marcos huffed out a breath, “Not sure what else there is to say.”

Lydia stared the broken edge of John’s desk.

He noticed her line of sight, “Just give him some time…”


	8. Flashback

Marcos had left her on the couch with a small smile and Lydia finally forced herself to stand and explore the room, running light fingers along the couple shelves that were able to actually hold things. There wasn’t much.

She picked up a folded photograph leaning against a couple of books, only slightly surprised to find a younger, smiling John looking back at her. He had an arm slung over a young boy’s shoulder, probably a brother, with his mom and grandmother on his other side. It had to have been taken years ago, his body leaner and his hair longer than hers…

Lydia stiffened as a _feeling_ washed over her, her hand reaching for the tin holding the picture up before she’d registered herself moving. The metal was cold, but when she opened it, she was hit with a blast of desert wind.

Explosions sounded in her ears, men screaming in pain as she spun.

She instinctively ducked as bullets flew overhead and her world was lit up, a wave of heat knocking her off her feet and hurling her body into a slab of building still standing. Lydia cried out as she hit the ground, her ears ringing…


	9. War

She scrambled upright, suddenly finding herself back in John’s office, eyes wide as she pressed herself into the wall and it took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t alone.

He slowly moved toward her, hands outstretched.

She looked down at his dog tags clenched tightly in her fist, finally aware of the tears streaming down her face.

“Lydia, you still with me?”

She looked up at him, managing a nod.

He glanced down, dark eyes shadowing, but said nothing as he gently removed them and returned them to the tin, which he set back on the shelf. One hand hesitantly rested on her lower back as he guided her over to the couch.

“What happened Lydia… what did you see?”

“War, pain,” the taste of dust and ash lingered on her tongue, “so much innocence lost.”

His frown deepened.

She felt the steadfast strength that came from years of fighting and leading in the air around him. She knew she shouldn’t let herself grow close to anyone (death followed her like a looming shadow), but she curled into his side and let his warmth wash over her, closing her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder.


	10. Awareness

In the weeks that followed, she’d become ever more aware of his presence when she wandered around HQ and she hated it. How screwed up was she that only weeks after killing an orderly in a mental facility, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his arms as he carried a concrete barricade up the driveway…

Lydia of old was back and she wanted to shake her _violently_ because there was more to life than the attention of the male species. That no amount of painted lips or rouged cheeks could cover up how broken she truly was... that sinking into a warm body wouldn’t erase any of the horrible things she’d been shown.

With a frustrated groan, she stood, grabbing a beaten up notebook from the small supply, sitting outside and writing out conversations she overheard or describing someone in Classical Latin, the translating keeping her from getting distracted by the flashes of tan skin, dark hair, and broad shoulders whenever they entered her periphery vision.

Marcos came over, “Is that Latin?”

She looked up, “Classical Latin actually.”

“Didn’t realize people still did anything with that.”

Lydia shrugged, “I like picking up languages.”

He smiled, “Of course you do.”


	11. Allure

“Johnny?”

He looked up from the growing supply list when Sonya rested her hip against the desk. John let out a sigh and leaned back in the chair. “Hmm?”

“I just wanted to see if you wanted company on tonight’s supply run?”

He kept his face impassive, mulling over a response that wouldn’t cause a frown and a million questions. John managed a small smile and stood, pocketing the folded paper, “I’ll be fine Sonya.”

She pushed herself up, lips curling into a smile when she stepped into his path. Her hands running over his shoulders and resting on his chest, leaning forward with her head tilted back just so, “Come on, Johnny.”

He reached out, fully intending to gently push her back, yet his hands rested on her waist and her lips were on his before he could speak. His senses quieted to a dull hum, like they always did around her, focused only the warm, soft skin and racing heart in front of him as he pulled her closer...

Lorna’s steel-toed boots lightly kicking the door broke the spell, smirking as Sonya left the office.

He sighed, “What is it?”

Her teasing expression disappeared, “Its Lydia… she’s gone.”


	12. Search

_How the hell had he missed her leaving?_

He immediately closed his eyes and expanded his senses to see just how far away she’d gotten. After clearing the ambient noise of HQ and focusing on the surrounding woods and roads, he finally did get a hold on her, cursing.

Flashes of the tree line… a dirt road… that zombie-like gait... slowed heart rate… eyes empty and body completely bare…

His eyes snapped open, “She’s outside the perimeter… the dirt road leading in.”

Lorna pursed her lips.

He grabbed a throw blanket over the couch (to Lorna’s confusion) and jogged down the stairs. He followed the path she’d taken, his sight finding the faint indents her bare feet made in the ground and trying not get angry at himself…

They reached the road. No Lydia in sight.

Lorna took the blanket from him, quiet as he crouched and splayed his hand over the earth, closing his eyes and tilting his head. John grew more concerned when he found her less than half a mile away, tears streaming down her face as her body shook as the temperature began to drop. He stood and pointed south, “There… she’s down in the ravine.”


	13. Loss

Lorna walked ahead, reaching the top of the ravine first, her body tensing. Her hand wrapped around his wrist and when he read the tightness in her shoulders, it brought him to a stop. Her eyes were softer than usual, a look he only saw on her around Marcos, “Stay here.”

Given Lydia’s current state, he conceded with a nod.

He listened, catching her broken whispers.

“It happened so fast…”

“Lydia?” Lorna’s voice was laden with concern.

“So fast… so fast…”

The sound of rustling fabric: Lorna draping the blanket over her naked body.

“They wore crosses… sharp… something sharp…”

“Lydia?”

“Dead… She’s dead… my fault… my fault…”

Lorna’s heartrate spiked, “Who’s dead Lydia? What happened?”

“Allison. She’s dead. 7:27… Allison’s dead…”

The name was unfamiliar to him, but the pain and devastation in Lydia’s voice told him that Allison was… _had_ been someone important to her. It didn’t surprise him when she fell silent, slumping forward into Lorna’s arms unconscious.

He was halfway down the hill before Lorna could open her mouth, Lydia’s swaddled form leaning heavily on the other woman’s shoulder. He lifted her easily in his arms, the coolness of her skin against his shoulder worrying.


	14. Defender

John deposited her on his bed, ignoring the incredulous looks from others when he and Lorna had strode through HQ without a word. He ordered Lorna to grab a change of clothes while he grabbed more blankets from storage and returned to the room.

He looked when Lorna shut the door behind her. He ran a hand through his hair, motioning to the unconscious Lydia. “Can you get her changed? I need to go talk to Sage.”

Lorna nodded.

John made his way over to Sage and her wall of monitors, and without preamble stated, “I need you to search a name for me: Allison. She lives in Beacon Hills, California. Check hospitals or police radios.”

Sage arched a brow, but knew better than to ask as her fingers flew across the keyboard. It took no time for her to pull up a picture of a smiling, dark-haired woman. She sat back, eyes sad, “Allison Argent. Twenty-three. Pronounced DOA tonight at 7:27 pm at Beacon Hills Memorial after a protest involving Purifiers got heated.”

_“They wore crosses… sharp… something sharp…”_

His hands clenched into fists. “Was she a mutant?”

“No, but she knew Lydia was. She was defending her.”


	15. Watch

Normally, the continuous sound of Lorna’s knives sinking into wood might have been concerning or even a little irritating, but he found himself wishing for an outlet that didn’t involve breaking things or hurting someone.

He sat by Lydia’s side while she slept, aware of every heartbeat… every breath she took. John had sent Sonya and Marcos on ahead for the supply run (to Sonya’s ire) and wondered why he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from the young woman he’d known for only two weeks.

He knew he was protective of people… _his_ people, but this was something different… maybe a little familiar. John felt drawn to her in a way he never felt with Sonya, wanting to _hurt_ anyone who would cause her pain. Vengeance had never been his way. He’d never fallen back on his anger because he knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything…

At least that’s what he kept telling himself with every rise and fall of her chest.

He couldn’t be with someone and lead the Underground. He just couldn’t.

Marcos came back a little after midnight, dragging Lorna off to bed.

Like the night she’d first come to the Mutant Underground, he stayed with her.


	16. Numb

Lydia awoke to a slumbering John and a gaping hole in her chest, looking over the clock to find that is was past midnight _the next day_. She should’ve been more shocked or even embarrassed to find that she was wearing different clothes from the day before, but she was numb to everything…

She slid out of bed, surprised when John remained asleep. Lydia knew that with the combination of his enhanced senses and tracking abilities, any movement made around him would’ve woken him almost instantly. _How long had he stayed awake?_ She might’ve felt guilty if she could actually _feel_ anything…

She pulled the borrowed cardigan tighter as she approached the store room, grabbing a bottle of water and granola bar and returning to bed to pick up the notebook she’d abandoned in her trance. She ripped out the page with a white cross set against dark scribbles and crumpled it up.

Forcing down half the granola bar and finishing the water, she tossed both in the trash and quietly returned to the bed. Some warmth returned to her chest at the sight of him sleeping soundly, and after propping the pad on her leg, she began to sketch.


	17. Silent

The next half hour passed in relative silence and as she stretched out her legs, John lifted his head. The drowsiness faded instantly, his expression immediately flooding with a sadness and sympathy she didn’t want to deal with right now…

“Hey…”

Lydia sighed, “Can we not talk about it right now? Please…”

He sat next to her, hand curling gently over her knee. “Whenever you want to talk…”

Her cheeks warmed at his touch and she managed a nod. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from his, the dark depths pulling her in with the promise of forgetting her grief if only for a moment… She cleared her throat, unable to keep from placing her hand over his, fingers tightening around his, “Thank you.”

His lips curled up in a ghost of a smile, “I’ll tell the others not to bother you alright?”

Lydia said nothing more as he left the room. She looked down at the notebook to see Allison, her head tilted back in laughter with a wide dimpled smile and wondered what her friend would’ve thought about John...

_“So serious… I bet you some Lydia Martin charm would change that.”_

Lydia smiled to herself. _Maybe another time._


	18. Shield

She worked up the courage to finally get out of the bed and leave when then familiar timber of John’s voice came from outside of the room, clearly agitated as the volume didn’t change when she moved closer to the door.

“Sonya…”

“From what I heard Johnny, Lydia needs this.” Sonya’s voice was softer… sultry, trying to soothe his frustration in a way that told Lydia she’d done it _many_ times before. “You’ve seen how hard everything’s been. I can _help_ …”

“But messing with her memories? Sonya you know how I feel about that.”

Lydia’s hackles raised at the thought of this woman going through her mind and a flicker of anger flared in her chest, the old Lydia wanting to walk out there and tell Sonya where could shove that “ _help_ ”…

“Johnny…”

Lydia ground her teeth.

“No, Sonya. You will not do anything to Lydia’s memories unless _Lydia_ gives permission.”

The anger in her fizzled out at the edge to his voice, a little bit more of that numbness retreating in light of the warmth blooming in her broken chest. It was a relief to have someone like him having her back.

She hoped she wouldn’t screw it up.


	19. Cracks

Lydia waited until she was sure John and Sonya had gone before exiting, sock clad feet silent as she approached the wall of monitors. She brushed her hair behind her ear when Sage turned to regard her with an inquisitive look, a nice change of pace from the sad looks of the others, “I need to know something.”

“From what has been said, you knew everything about her death before it happened.”

A bitter laugh slipped out, “A lot of good it did being across the country.”

Sage frowned, not commenting.

“Can you find out when her funeral is?”

The woman turned, typing for only a couple moments, “A week from tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Lydia nodded, turning to leave.

“Lydia… I’m sorry.”

The wall holding back her grief cracked and she nodded again, leaving the main floor and returning to her own private corner. She was relieved to find no one there, the weight of everyone else’s sympathy straining that barrier she held up between her and her emotions and she felt that tickle in her throat. Lydia tightened her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the scream trapped behind her teeth.

“Lydia?”

_John._

Then the dam broke.


	20. Shatter

Lydia was dimly aware of her wail shattering a nearby window and causing John to wince in pain, the grief and guilt finally dragging her under. She felt like her chest had been cracked open, her lungs burned like they’d been punctured, and she wrapped her arms around herself so tightly like it was the only thing keeping her body from completely falling apart.

He caught her before she collapsed, sinking to the floor with her.

Lydia grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, sobbing into his chest. She could feel the heat of the arm wrapped around her and the hand cradling the back of her head as they rocked back and forth. Her lungs seized, her breathing was stilted, and it didn’t register that she was hyperventilating until he held her tighter, her ear pressed over his sternum.

His heartbeat was loud, a steady drumbeat that could be heard over her own.

“I need you to breathe Lydia… _breathe_.”

She clung to him, trying match her racing pulse to his and she wasn’t sure of how much time had passed before she’d finally calmed herself down, but Lydia couldn’t bring herself to let go.

He was her calm.

Her cornerstone.


	21. Brother

He felt the moment she fell asleep and he lifted her in his arms when the two presences finally moved into the room. He ignored Sonya’s frown and Lorna’s raised brow as he tucked her under the sheets.

“Johnny, your ears…”

His fingers came away red. _At least the ringing stopped…_ “I’m fine, Sonya.”

She opened her mouth, Lorna’s hand on her shoulder stopping her. “Let’s let her sleep.”

Sonya’s eyes flitted back to Lydia and softened.

John brushed past them, set on returning to his office when Marcos stepped into his path with a phone and bit back sigh when it was handed to him with a _here he is,_ running a hand down his face, “This is John.”

“Hey, big brother. How’s life treatin’ you?”

Some of the tension left him as he continued to his office, “No worse than usual.”

James snorted, “Marcos was tellin’ me about the new girl, Lydia.”

John sighed, “Of course he was.”

“Don’t sound so put off _shidee._ He’s just a concerned friend.”

He hummed.

“I heard what happened to her friend. Man, if _humans_ aren’t safe…”

He looked in the direction of where she slept, a stupid thought coming to mind.


	22. Plan

Sonya’s eyes widened, “You want to _what_?”

He ignored the twinge of jealousy in the woman’s tone and kept his focus solely on Marcos and Lorna. Their expression showed varying shades of knowing, a faint smile on the former accompanied by a raised eyebrow from the latter. “You heard me.”

“You want to take the girl cross country _alone_ for her friend’s funeral?”

John wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him when concocting this ridiculous plan for Lydia to find closure, but he was positive his brain had had absolutely no part of it. He didn’t like being reminded of how stupid it was though. He looked back at Sonya, hoping he kept the edge of irritation from bleeding into his voice “We’ll be gone a week max. I know the three of you can handle things while I’m gone.”

Lorna’s lips twitched.

Marcos managed to smooth out his expression, “Lydia deserves to say goodbye to a friend, a _human_ friend that died defending her. As odd as this whole thing is Sonya, John knows what he’s doing alright?”

John shot his friend a thankful look before the three left him alone.

Now he just had to tell Lydia.


	23. Closure

He waited until she was awake for a while before knocking on the door.

“Come in.”

John entered the room and shut the door behind him, frowning when Lydia didn’t look up from her notebook. He caught sight of Allison’s face being drawn through the curtain of hair, pushing away the doubts he had about the plan. He cleared his throat, keeping his voice soft as he sat on the edge of the bed, “Lydia?”

Her shoulders tensed, heart rate increasing.

He frowned, sensing her apprehension, “I can leave if-”

Lydia shook her head, setting down the notebook, “You’re fine… what’s up?”

“I talked to Sage…” he paused when she tensed further, “and I just thought I’d let you know that I’ve made plans with my brother in Phoenix so you can attend Allison’s funeral.”

Hazel eyes searched his face for a full thirty seconds, the wheels turning in her head as she pieced together his story and read between the lines, “I can’t take you away from HQ, John. You’re needed here…”

“I’ve already talked with Marcos and Lorna… they can hold down the fort.” He held out her notebook, “Lydia… you deserve to say goodbye to your friend.”


	24. Nostalgia

Lydia let out a long sigh and took the drawing, “How long would we be gone?”

He might’ve smiled under different circumstances at the unspoken answer, “A week.”

She hummed, “That means we’re leaving tomorrow, correct?”

He nodded.

Lydia sat back, “Then I guess I should start packing…” she waved a hand around her small corner of HQ, “got a lot of clothes to sort through.”

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

Her lips quirked, falling seconds later when she looked down at the drawing of her friend. Hazel eyes watered, but she blinked the tears away before John even processed the swift change of emotion. She ran her fingers along the lines of Allison’s dimpled smile, “I was horrible in high school -a bitch really- but Allison saw past it all. She became one of my first real friends.”

He leaned forward, “What was she like?”

“You would’ve liked her. She was so kind… had such a big heart.” Lydia’s smile was tinged with sadness, “She reminds me a little bit of Lorna in how loyal she was to her friends. She would do anything to protect them…”

John reached out, “It wasn’t your fault, Lydia.”


	25. Broken

Her skin was cool as he gently rubbed her arm, frowning as her gaze went distant once more. She just blinked slowly once, twice before coming back to herself, looking over at him with eyes that were heavy with loss. “How many times have people told _you_ that?”

Immediately Gus came to mind, “I’m a leader, Lydia. If I make a decision and someone is harmed… _that’s_ on me.”

“I’ve predicted the deaths of people around me for _years_. I hear screams and gunshots and broken glass where everyone else hears nothing but silence and white noise. My first prediction was 7/15.” Lydia shuddered at the memory of the event, paper crinkling in her hands, “No matter the clues I pieced together or what warnings I gave, people still died and no matter what anyone says, I feel like I’ve failed. The price of foresight cannot save everyone.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t I know it…”

Lydia narrowed her eyes, like she could see the thoughts running through his head and it looked like she would say something, but she only flattened the edges of the paper in her lap, “Misery does love its company, doesn’t it?”


	26. Aid

Lydia let out a breath when John finally left for the night, the storm of emotions roiling within her pulling away and leaving her weary from treading them. She was grateful for the dreamless sleep that followed, the sounds of others moving about the base waking her up.

She changed into dark torn jeans, burgundy tank top, cropped leather jacket, and black booties all courtesy of a “shopping trip” with Lorna and Sonya. She threw her remaining clothing in the bag before grabbing the notebook and handful of pencils and throwing them in there as well.

Once she pulled her hair up into a milkmaid braid, she shouldered the bag and made her way down to Sage’s hub where she knew John would be making sure their arrangements all went smoothly.

Lydia was as surprised to find Sonya’s hand catching her sleeve as she was confused to find two folded twenties being held out. She should’ve been more concerned by the fact that only days ago, this woman had wanted to alter her memories, but looking back, she could hear the concern…

“For flowers… and a dress.” She answered simply.

She pocketed the money, finally finding her voice, “Thank you.”


	27. Chiaroscuro

She was glad for the silence in the first hour of the drive, Lydia noticing the tight grip he had on the steering wheel and the eyes constantly checking their surroundings as they merged onto the 1-20 W leaving Atlanta. She knew better than distract him from whatever he was listening for.

Pulling out her notebook, Lydia flipped to a clean page.

It had been a while since she’d drawn a subject from a live person, but the graphite easily began the outline of his profile all the same, shading underneath the strong line of his jaw and the high arcs of his cheekbones. It wasn’t until she’d glanced up to blend his upper lip that she saw the small smile curling his mouth and she paused, hating the blush that he’d couldn’t have missed…

“Don’t stop on my account.”

Lydia almost rolled her eyes at the line when she turned to look at him, throat closing up.

The sunlight brought out tawny flecks within the deep brown, teeth a brilliant white as his smile widened a fraction. It was a ghost of that dimpled grin from the folded picture taken years ago, but every bit as breathtaking to witness.


	28. Attention

She managed to regain her voice, “I can’t very well continue if you keep staring at me.”

“Ah.” He nodded, unable to completely push down the laughter that still shone in his eyes, giving him -for the moment- the appearance of the young man that he’d been before everything had gone to hell. “Then I will leave you to it.”

Lydia huffed out a breath, trying to return to the drawing, but found the task more difficult than before. Just because she couldn’t feel him looking at her didn’t change the fact that he _knew_ what she was doing and now the question of what he thought _she_ thought about him was spinning around and around in her head... Could he sense her blush? Hear her heart racing?

“Lydia?”

She nearly jumped as his hand rested on her shoulder, “Yeah?”

His expression was full of concern, “Are you alright?”

Lydia was close to continuously banging her head the car window until she was unconscious. That would probably stave of the embarrassment for _some_ time, though it would sure make his concern skyrocket which would then undo all reasons she’d wanted to do it in the first place… “Yeah… I’m good.”


	29. Warning

He pursed his lips.

Lydia took a breath, trying to regain control of her stupid overreacting body and spiraling thoughts. The flirtatious high school girl she’d been would be disgusted with how she was acting around him, like she’d never been with a guy at all… She swallowed at the train of thought, glancing into the rearview mirror to just take a second and-

Allison’s eyes were wide with fear, mouth forming words that she couldn’t hear.

Ice flooded her veins, her body locking up.

“Lydia, what is it? What do you see?”

His voice was muffled, fading in light of a low humming, and Lydia reached out. Her fingers brushed over her friend’s reflection when the humming became a high pitched tone that had her recoiling, hands clamped tightly over her ears as glass rained down over her-

“Lydia!”

She tore her hand away from the mirror with a gasp, pulling it into her chest like she’d been burned. She didn’t look over at John at first, trying to catch her breath and piece together anything from the vision…

“Lydia?”

She finally met his gaze and without prompting, said, “There’s going to be an attack.”

“On who?”

“On us.”


	30. Hindsight

Lydia had always found her abilities to be the one-step-forward-two-steps-back kind. Prior to figuring out she was a mutant, she’d always wondered what it would’ve been like to see the future… but now, sitting in silence as John’s jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, she felt bad for anyone who saw things like she did.

In the days before the horror of 7/15, she’d lost nearly a whole day of time in a catatonic state that doctors hadn’t been able to snap her out of. All she’d heard were gunshots and screams and all she’d seen was a world covered in a thick layer of ash and a sky that flickered between a bright, clear blue and fiery red…

When all her so called ‘friends’ abandoned her, Allison didn’t.

She’d very publicly gone against her Purifier family, keeping in contact with Lydia while she’d been in Eichen House. It’d been the dead orderly that had triggered the targeted attack on anyone who would openly support her, a _mutie_ who’d used their powers to kill, and Allison had made herself a target for the extremists.

Her powers had cost her Allison and Lydia knew she’d always hate them for it.


	31. Tense

The next three hours of the drive were quiet and tense, John not needing to look over to know that Lydia was just as on edge as he was. He strained his senses as much as he could, not caring if the amount of noise from passing cars gave him a migraine later. Hell, it was taking all of his self-control not to break the steering wheel in his hands…

The gas light coming on seemed to pull them both from their thoughts.

John let out a long breath, trying not to wince as driver a couple miles back laid on their horn, and forced himself to dull his senses as they pulled off the interstate and into the nearest gas station. Despite the heat that had Lydia removing her jacket, he shrugged on his own to cover the identifiable tattoos after he pulls into a pump and turns off the ignition. He turns to Lydia, “Come in with me?”

“Yeah.” She unbuckled her seatbelt, worrying her lip as she looks over his shoulder, “Is there a chance we could spring for snacks?”

He handed her a ten from the cash carefully concealed in his jacket, “I’ll get gas then.”


	32. Perspective

The pit stop at the gas station was uneventful and had actually released some of the tension, the silence becoming more relaxed than stifling. He still refused her suggestion that he stop pushing his abilities so much, not willing to put her life at risk because he wasn’t prepared.

He glanced over at Lydia every couple of minutes or so, strangely comforted by the scrape of pencil on paper because at least she was doing something instead of staring dead-eyed at the rearview mirror for five minutes. John wondered if that’s what it looked like when he tracked…

This time she was drawing Allison, her friend drawing back a sleek compound bow.

John turned away before she felt his gaze, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel as he once again glanced behind them. Other than the same semi-truck a mile back, the number of vehicles on the road hadn’t changed as the sun sank below the horizon and it wasn’t until he’d slowed down to pull off the interstate in the direction of their motel for the night that she finally looked over at him.

He said nothing until they parked in the dimly lit lot, “Come on, then.”


	33. Choice

A middle-aged woman looked up from her computer when the two of them entire the front office, her smile bright despite the late hour. She brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, “What can I do you lovebirds for?”

Lydia cleared her throat, her face heating.

John only smiled, “Just a room for the night.”

She typed something into her computer, “Can I see your ID, sugar?”

Without hesitation, he pulled out a fake that Sage had created for these purposes and slid it over. He wanted to reach for her hand, but the desk clerk (Mary Anne) had already turned back to him, “Okay Mr. Johnson, that’ll be fifty.”

The cash was traded for a room key.

“Your room is on the first floor, number seven. The WiFi password is on the key envelope and check-out is at noon. Enjoy your stay.”

He put it in his pocket, “Thank you.”

Lydia didn’t say anything as he unlocked the door and entered the room, face darkening at the _one_ bed back against the wall. She tossed her bag on the end of the bed and looked over at him, “So Mr. _John_ son, what side do you want?”


	34. Muted

He took the side facing the window, unfolding the map out on the desk while she changed into pajamas, planning out their drive for tomorrow and shooting a text to Lorna to let them know they were still on track, changing into basketball shorts and tank top.

He’s just put the map back when Lydia finally walked out, offering him a sleepy smile.

John returns the gesture, “You good to leave at six?”

She yawned, pulling back the cover with a nod.

“Good night, Lydia.”

Her voice is muffled by the pillow, “Night, John.”

He pulled out tomorrow’s clothes and folds them neatly on the corner of the desk, shutting off the light and easily maneuvering to his side of the bed. John almost smiled to himself when he noticed Lydia was already asleep, the vision from earlier probably taking more out of her than she would ever admit.

John slid into bed. He could feel her body heat in the inches of space between them, Lydia curled on her side with her back to him… He pulled the sheets up to his chest and closed his eyes, dulling his senses just enough to allow for a good night’s sleep.


	35. Nightmare

Sporadic movement from the other side of the bed woke him four hours later and he was immediately alert. He looked over at Lydia as her body twitched and curled into itself, fighting the urge to pull her closer as broken whispers reached his ears, “Lydia?”

“My fault… my fault…”

John squeezed her shoulder, “Lydia…”

She whimpered, “No… _No…”_

“Lydia!”

She lurched forward with a choked scream, tears streaming down her face as she grasped at the sheets with clawed fingers. Her panicked eyes were unfocused, heart racing in her chest as she struggled to breathe…

He took her hands in his, trying to catch her eye, “Lydia… Lydia _breathe._ ”

She finally focused on him, but shook her head, “I can’t…”

He pressed one of her palms over his heart, “I need you to look at me okay? Focus on me.”

Lydia looked at the hand on his chest and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

John listened as her heart found a steady rhythm once more and when she pulled away from him to stand, he had the urge to stop her… to hold onto her, but he let her go, his skin still warm from her touch…


	36. Denial

Lydia was glad he didn’t stop her when she shut the bathroom door behind her, flexing the still tingling hand that had been on his chest. She turned on the sink with a groan.

She’d wanted to kiss him then, to pull him forward and tangle her fingers in his dark hair…

 _Get a hold of yourself!_ She chastised herself, looking up into her reflection. She couldn’t get the look he’d given her when she got out of bed out of her head… _You had a nightmare and he pulled you out of it because he’s your friend and that’s it._ Lydia nodded at that. She was grieving Allison and wanted comfort. That was it.

_“Denial’s not just a river in Egypt.”_

Lydia gripped the edge of the counter when Allison spoke, perched on the edge of the bathtub. Even years later, it was still hard to tell when hallucinations were caused by her powers or lack of sleep. This seemed like a little bit of both…

She shot a look at her dead friend.

_“Oh, don’t look at me like that!”_

Lydia sighed, “He has responsibilities, Allison.”

 _“That’s not it…”_ She frowned, _“You’re scared.”_

“I can’t lose anyone else.”


	37. Ghosts

Allison looked down at her clothing, the same white tank top, cardigan and skinny jeans she’d been wearing the night she died. The blood was still wet, glistening in the crappy lighting of the bathroom, _“Lydia…”_

Fresh tears stung Lydia’s eyes and she spun to face her, not caring to keep her voice down. Let him think her crazy… “Everyone I’ve ever cared has left me in one way or another. Hell, death follows me like a damn curse and I refuse to subject others to it.”

_“You’re not cursed.”_

Her anger left her quickly and she leaned back against the door, sliding down onto the floor. She pulled her legs into her chest and rested her chin on her knees, watching as Allison crouched in front of her, “So why does it feel that way?”

Allison’s smile was sad, _“Pushing him away won’t help you.”_

“But it’ll help him.”

_“How would you know that? Have you asked him?”_

“He has bigger concerns… other priorities.”

 _“Then why is he taking you cross country?”_ She sat down, crossing her legs, _“Doesn’t seem like someone who had “other priorities”…”_

Lydia reached out to take her friend’s hand and Allison disappeared like smoke…


	38. Distance

She blinked the tears away when John knocked on the door, not the least bit surprised to find herself still standing in front of the mirror with the sink still running. Splashing cold water on her face, she turned off the faucet and grabbed a hand towel, drying her face before unlocking the door and opening it.

John dropped his hand, frowning, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” she nodded, “I just needed a couple minutes.”

He pursed his lips, clearly seeing through her assurance, but said nothing more than, “Can you be ready soon… say ten minutes? I figured since we were already both up, we could get ahead of schedule.”

Lydia shoved the conversation with Allison’s hallucination to the furthest corner of her mind, holding his gaze for another couple of seconds, trying to read whatever expression he wore and looking away when she realized just how deep those eyes were.

Worrying her lip, she walked past him and began to lay out her clothes.

She couldn’t let herself get lost in them… in the temptation to drown in something other than her own grief and guilt. It wasn’t worth losing the first stable presence in her life since Allison.

 


	39. Apology

The drive remained silent for the first four hours of that day’s drive. Lydia had glanced over once or twice, but remained stalwart. She wasn’t going to stare at him. She wasn’t going to draw him. She was just going to sit there and watch the landscape pass by in a blur.

Lydia was thankful John had left her to her silence, though, the man more perceptive than any she’d ever met. She wondered if that was due to his enhanced senses or if it was just how he was as a person…

When they stopped at a gas station somewhere in Louisiana, Lydia got out of the car and leaned against the taillights. Her outfit of cut off shorts, rust red tank top, and black flip-flops was fitting of the humid heat surrounding her.

John was still wearing the black leather jacket, more concerned with keeping his tattoos covered than his own discomfort. He’d tilted his head in her direction when she’d gotten out of the car, but had done nothing else.

She wet her lips, “John?”

He finally looked at her, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about the silent treatment.”

A small smile, “It’s alright… I don’t mind the quiet.”


	40. Muse

Feeling more comfortable, she pulled out her notebook and continued with the drawing she’d started earlier of him, which she was able to finish pretty quickly. Signing it with her initials, she flipped to a clean page.

Drawing inspiration from the photo she’d seen in his office, she began a three quarter profile and sketched out his strong features set against a desert landscape of brush and distant mountains with long hair blowing in the wind…

He’d switched on the radio a few miles back, tapping his fingertips on the steering wheel in time the drums and guitar riffs of almost every song that had come on. He’d even sung along to a couple of them.

She watched with a small smile, making last minute touches to the drawing before closing the notebook and tucking it away to show him later. Taking off her flip-flops, she propped her feet up on the dashboard and tried to hum along. Given that her past music had run more along today’s hits than classic rock (more to keep up the mean girl image than anything else), it was a poor attempt.

His mouth curled at her efforts and Lydia’s chest bloomed with warmth.


	41. Ache

Pulling into a motel for the night, John went to get them a room. He made polite conversation with the desk clerk while she put in his information and took the room key with a smile and _goodnight_ before going to their room.

His head throbbed and it took much of his self-control not to break the door. John shot Lydia a thankful look when she nudged the door open, tossing his backpack on the bed before making his way into the small bathroom and shutting the door.

He turned the water on as hot as it would go, waiting until steam rose up to strip and step under the scalding spray. John closed his eyes, letting the heat hit the tight muscles of his shoulders and back and neck...

John was sure almost half an hour had passed before the tension melted away, the migraine level headache downgrading to a manageable tightness behind his eyes that would (hopefully) go away with some sleep.

Lydia was engrossed with her notebook when he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and clothing bundled in his arm, but he could've sworn he saw a blush darken her cheeks...


	42. Concern

He smiled, grabbing a change of clothes before returning to the bathroom, towel drying his hair and walking back out in time for Lydia to edge by him with pajamas and toiletries in hand before closing the door, the shower starting minutes later.

He mapped out their drive for tomorrow, sighing at the realization that they would be going through Dallas. He looked over at the bathroom door, remembering the information from her file and the look on her face when he found her clutching his dog tags.

John had never encountered abilities like hers: she could see past, present, and futures events where death would or could occur, which made her premonition about an attack on them that much more worrying, more so for her than him. She herself was as susceptible to a bullet as any human…

The door opened and Lydia came out, carding fingers through dried hair.

He folded up the map and put it back in the bag, watching as she sat on her side of the bed and began to divide her hair for a braid. John wasn't sure what had gotten into him when he gently touched her wrist with a “May I?”


	43. Braid

She stilled, looking at him over her shoulder.  
John pulled his hand back, thinking he may overstepped, when she lowered her own hand and nodded. He combed his fingers through her strawberry blonde locks, the strands like silk as he began to part her hair.  
The action was soothing, reminding of doing the same with James’ hair when he was younger and he smiled, remembering that time in his life before he joined the military, before he became a mutant…  
“John?”  
He didn’t stop, “Hmm?”  
“I’ve been meaning to ask…” Lydia was completely still, seeming to have trouble pulling a sentence together for a moment. “Apache or Navajo?”  
He tied off her braid, “Apache.”  
She hummed, “That picture back at HQ… when was it taken?”  
“Summer of my eighteenth birthday before I left for boot camp.”  
“Your family… did they accept you being a mutant?”  
He sat next to her, “My grandmother saw it as a blessing from the Creator, a way to protect our people. My mom… she was more scared for me than anything else.”   
“Growing up, my mom expected perfection and when she found out…” Lydia shrugged, her voice bitter, “Let’s just say she would’ve preferred schizophrenia.”


	44. Acceptance

He frowned, almost wanting to disagree, but he knew better. Not all families were as accepting as his had been, both Marcos’ and Lydia’s experiences showing that there was more than one way to abandon your child. Marcos had been left on the streets, Lydia in a mental institution. “If it helps any, you are always welcome in the Mutant Underground.”

She smiled, “Good line. You should put it on the brochure.”

John chuckled.

Lydia tugged at the end of her braid, twirling the hair around her finger, her expression becoming thoughtful. Hazel eyes focused on her bag sitting in the desk chair and she stood, rummaging through it and pulling out her notebook. She turned a few pages before handing it to him.

John made note to find an actual drawing pad for her after this.

The drawing was of him with his hair a length it hadn’t been for years with the familiar desert landscape of Camp Verde in the background. He didn’t question her on being able to draw a place she’d never been to.

“So… what do you think?”

He handed the pad back, “You’re very talented, Lydia.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “…Thanks.”


	45. Restraint

John figured going through Dallas would have its obstacles, but seeing Lydia hunched over in the passenger seat hadn’t been one of them. He clenched his jaw as she whimpered, the steering wheel groaned under his grip as he steadily sped up. “Lydia?”

“Just…” she took a breath, “Just get us out of the city.”

He almost would’ve preferred the vacant stare than the body-wracking sobs, his senses acutely aware of just how fast her heart was racing and how ragged her breathing was or how her nails had broken the skin of her palms...

He growled under his breath as a car cut them off, trying to draw on the years of restraint so as to not irreparably damage their only mode of transportation before they got outside of city limits. The last thing they needed was someone to see and call in Sentinel Services…

A trembling hand curled over his forearm, her skin _freezing_.

Hazel eyes looked through him, not quite vacant but not quite _there_.

He glanced in the rearview mirror before turning over his arm and taking her hand in his, taking a small comfort in the fact that her fingers laced with his and squeezed.


	46. Tether

Lydia’s body sagged in relief as the screams and whispers faded once more, John’s fingers twined with hers, grounding her as much as it probably did him. His skin was warm and smooth and it would’ve been strange for any other soldier if that soldier wasn’t John.

She took a deep breath to regain her bearings, letting go of his hand to wipe the tears away, in time to see the Dallas skyline fading behind them. She winced as she went to wipe her hands off on her shorts, finally noticing the gouges her nails had left in her palm.

“You back?”

Lydia nodded, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

“What was that?”

“Sometimes…” she swallowed, “events that lead to a large loss of life, leave an imprint and my abilities tap into them… sense them coming before they happen.”

“Allison?”

“She was my friend. A family when I had none.” She looked up, seeing Allison smiling in the rearview mirror. “Even being across the country… I felt her die.” Her hand fell to her stomach, tears breaking free, “I felt the pain of the knives stabbing into her over and over…”

He took her hand again, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah… me too.”


	47. Weary

Lydia, exhausted by both the voices and emotional baggage she’d just dumped on John, slept for the rest of the drive and was only woken when he pulled into yet another motel for the night, coming out to let her know he’d already gotten a room for the night.

She took a scalding shower the moment they walked through the door, her eyes burning with tears as she yanked her hair from its braid and Lydia wanted to slam her fist into something. She wanted to scream until the tile cracked or her vocal cords tore. 

But she couldn’t.

It wouldn’t do them any good if they got caught. She didn’t need any more on her conscious…

_She was just so tired of crying…_

“Lydia?”

How his voice could cut through the chaos in her mind, she wasn’t sure, but she turned the water off when he spoke. Lydia dried her hair and wrapped a towel around her body before walking out, voice wavering, “John, could you braid my hair again?” 

“Yeah…” His eyes looked her over for only a second, “Did you want to get changed first?”

She was too weary to deal with any residual embarrassment and nodded.


	48. Confidant

His fingers in her hair was cathartic, a respite from day’s events, and Lydia was fighting the urge to lean back into him, his touch as soothing as any lullaby. She could see the older brother he’d been all those years ago, comforting and protective and always willing to lend an ear.

Lydia herself was an only child, only thirteen when she discovered her father’s affair with a graduate student. She’d never had anyone to turn to then. No sister or brother to hold her and tell her that it wasn’t her fault…

“John, what’s your brother like?”

His hands stilled for only a moment as he mulled over the question, “He’s a pain in the ass on most days… stubborn and impulsive, but always willing to crack a joke to ease the tension. His abilities are similar to mine in all but the thick skin.”

She almost sighed.  _Great, just more motivation to throw himself into the line of fire…_ Lydia wondered how annoyed James got when he did something stupid like take the brunt of her scream to shield Lorna and Marcos. “Well, I’m excited to meet him.”

His chuckle was amused, “You might be regretting that later.”


	49. Recollection

“I’ll be fine. Besides…” she shrugged, “I have experience with unruly boys.”

John snorted, “Not sure he’ll appreciate you calling him a boy.”

She turned to him with an arched eyebrow, “How old is he?”

“Seventeen.”

“I rest my case.”

He just shook his head, a dimpled smile stretching across his face and she couldn’t help but do the same. It was infectious, the happiness he coming off of him when he talked about his brother, and she wanted to bask in for as long as she could because these moments had been far and few between for her in the last couple years.

The next hour was filled with stories of his family and Lydia herself threw in the story of the revenge her and Allison got on her boyfriend, Jackson, after she found him screwing another girl. The telling of how she and Allison had (immaturely) stuck pads and tampons on his new sports car had him looking at her strangely.

“In _my_ defense, Allison wanted to shoot him full of arrows. So, you know vandalism… not murder.”

His head fell back with a loud laugh.

Like his smile, it was contagious and she found herself joining in.


	50. Proximity

The dreamless sleep was a welcome change given the last week, but waking to find her head resting on his chest and her arm slung across his stomach had her nearly falling off the bed in her rush to get away from him.

He caught her shoulder, “Hey, hey… you’re alright. It’s alright.”

 _No, it’s not_ was what she wanted to respond with. Her fingers itched to run through his unbound hair and her hands wanted to explore the lines of his arms and shoulders and chest and- how the hell did someone look like that just waking up? She was sure the smile looked as forced as it felt, “I’m fine. I’m sorry for… crowding you.”

“You’re fine.” Those dark eyes were unreadable for a long moment before concern became evident and he pursed his lips, “Did you see something? Was it a vision?”

She wanted to lie to him, but Lydia knew doing that when his entire focus was on her would be pretty much pointless. He was like a damn lie detector and she really wasn’t in the mood for a disappointed look. “No. I was just surprised is all.”

Although that _knowing_ look wasn’t much better…


	51. Priorities

He watched her hurry to the bathroom and waited until the door shut before leaning back against the headboard and running a hand over his face with a groan, letting out a muttered curse at the sheer idiocy of that whole interaction.

John had become alert the moment she’d curled into him. He should’ve moved her or got out of bed or…really anything other than _like_ it. This wasn’t a personal vacation. He was taking her to her friend’s damn funeral for _Usen_ ’s sake! He had priorities. He had a responsibilities as a leader and hell, he still hadn’t put enough distance between him and Sonya yet. He was in no position to allow his feelings any input on the current situation-

Lydia came out of the bathroom just then, with only a white towel wrapped around her.

John just about threw up his hands.

She grabbed her bag from the chair without looking at him and retreated back to the bathroom.

Pushing himself off the bed as carefully as he could, he pulled out the map and he was actually glad to find that they were no more than a four hours’ drive away from Camp Verde.


	52. Warmth

He was thankful to be back on the road again, to have his focus on the drive ahead of him instead of solely on her. He could listen to the pencil move over the paper instead of watching the sunlight filter through strawberry blonde strands…

John let out a long breath, reaching over to turn on the radio.

The classic rock coming through the stereo was a forgotten comfort, loosening his hold on the steering wheel with each song, as was the open desert landscape flying past him. He glanced over at Lydia, “You mind if I roll down a window?”

She stopped drawing and looked over at him, nodding with a small smile. She closed her notebook and slid it into her bag, propping her now bare feet up on the dashboard, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back.

He immediately diverted his gaze back to the road, rolling down the windows.

The warmth of the sun and dry air almost had him closing his eyes as well, his skin soaking it in like it had been starved and for a moment, he could almost fool himself that it hadn’t been two years since he’d been back.


	53. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking some liberties with John's family and his backstory. He has a brother in the comics, called Warpath, and both were born on the reservation in Camp Verde, but other than that, I'm taking the bits and pieces we've gotten from Season 1 and just going with it so...enjoy!

John pulled into the way station outside of Phoenix, his brother walking down the front steps of the decrepit building. The smile came unbidden as he wrapped his arms around James, “It’s good to see you again in person.”

“You too. It’s been what? Two years?”

He frowned, “I’m sure _shimaa_ won’t be happy with me.”

James cracked a smile, “I’d be more worried about _shiwóyé_.”

His small shudder wasn’t missed by James, who laughed loudly, “Good to see that the great Thunderbird still has some common-sense underneath that thick skin…” he looked over, finally registering their audience, “you must be Lydia.”

He turned to see that she’d been watching their interaction with a small smile and had pushed herself off the car when she’d finally been noticed, “You would be correct. Is it safe to say you’re James?”

“That’s me,” he grinned, “My brother over here failed to mention your beauty.”

John’s head fell into his hand with a sigh, but Lydia only laughed. His head snapped up at the sound, clear and light. Something in him stirred at the arched eyebrow she shot his way and, in that moment, he saw the girl she’d been before 7/15.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _shimaa_ \- Western Apache for Mother  
>  _shiwóyé_ \- Western Apache for Grandmother


	54. Flare

Typical of a small way station, there were one or two families and at least three runaways that he could see before James pulled the two of them into one of the private rooms in the building, the playful façade dropping when Lydia spotted the scattering of newspaper articles on the table’s surface, her countenance sobering.

James looked unsure if he should approach.

John felt the air around her grow charged, her hazel eyes burning with anger as she grabbed one of the articles. He shot a look at James to keep him from saying anything, focusing on the bolded title of the article in her fist: **Mutant Wanted in Connection to Death of UCLA Student**. “Lydia?”

“This is bullshit!” She snapped, “Scott was her boyfriend. He was trying to protect her from them. The Purifiers won’t admit to killing her, not with who her grandfather is, so they’re covering their asses!”

John had yet to see this anger from her, having grown used to the quiet air around her since she’d first shown up at HQ. A bright and bold personality that had been muffled… suffocated by the trials of the last few years, was now flaring to life.


	55. Cover-up

John could hear her teeth clenching, grinding… biting back what he was sure a piercing scream and he stepped in front of her, uncurling her fingers from the paper and setting the article behind him. “Who is he? Her grandfather?”

The questions calmed her, Lydia loosening her jaw, “Gerard Argent. He’s practically a Purifier spokesperson. His “followers” hang on every word he says. I imagine he’s all up in arms now that his _precious_ Allison is dead.”

He glanced at James, who nodded in confirmation.

Her anger simmered out, turning to his brother, “Have you heard anything from Scott?”

James nodded, “He doesn’t want to leave his mother.”

She sighed, “I’m assuming the Purifier’s will be attendance?”

He pursed his lips. That would make their whole reason for coming pointless unless…

“I need to talk to Scott. Get him out before any more innocent people die.”

Her entire posture was weary, shoulders tense and eyes heavy, and John felt that anger in him rise at seeing her like this and his hands tightened into white-knuckled fists…

His brother’s hand on his shoulder grounded him.

“Come on you two, let’s go.”

Lydia regarded James, “Where?”

James looked over at John, “Home.”


	56. Assumptions

Lydia watched the two from the backseat, aware of the John’s eyes on her every couple seconds as she played with the strap of her bag. The anger from earlier was gone and all she felt was weariness because _of course_ they’d blame the mutant for human mistakes. She knew that all too well, being called a murderer without ever getting a chance to explain why the orderly had been in her room alone at night in the first place…

Her hands trembled at the memory, nails biting into her palm.

“So Lydia?”

She met James’ eyes in the rear-view mirror, noting just how similar they were to his brother’s and not just the color. There was a steadiness to them, a grounding presence not unlike John’s that had fingers uncurling with a long breath. She managed to find her voice, “Yeah?”

“If it’s not too intrusive, I wanted to ask…”

She didn’t miss the glance at John, a silent question asking both of them if it was okay and Lydia nodded when two sets of dark eyes looked back at her. “Go ahead.”

“Your abilities…” he trailed off, turning the truck onto a dirt road, “What can you do?”


	57. Monsters

She swallowed, deciding to go with a simplified answer, “I can predict death. I get flashes of images and sounds.”

James hummed, “Anything recently?”

Lydia looked over at John, who shook his head. She wondered for only a moment why he wanted her to keep quiet, seeing how similar the two of them were. If James found out about the future attack on them he would come too and John didn’t want his brother anywhere near whatever was going to happen. Especially if it had anything to do with Gerard and his vengeful Purifiers. She took a deep breath, “Just… Allison.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry Lydia. You shouldn’t have… it’s not fair.”

She felt the dull sting of tears, “Life hardly is.”

He shared a glance with John.

Lydia almost felt bad for creating the tension, but she couldn’t get the article out of her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about how Scott had been there… how he’d held her while she bled out onto the pavement. He’d loved her and had to watch her die by the hands of people so full of hatred that they couldn’t see that the monsters they saw in mutants were already in themselves.


	58. Mother

It wasn’t until the truck stopped in front of a single-story house that Lydia was pulled from her thoughts, drawing her attention to John as he stepped out of the car. She shouldered her bag, noticing the tight grip he had on his own.

He was nervous.

She couldn’t blame him, given that the thought of seeing anyone from back home had her palms sweating even if it was just Scott… She looked at James, who almost seemed amused by his brother’ reaction.

James knocked lightly on the door, no time passing as it was ripped open.

A middle-aged woman ran out, flinging her arms around him before Lydia could blink, dark eyes full of tears as she ran shaking hands over her son’s face, murmuring brokenly in what Lydia could only assume was their native language.

The tension bled out of John as he buried his head in her neck, responding in the same tongue and Lydia felt her own eyes burning as she watched the reunion of mother and son, the naïve little girl in her wishing she had family that would do the same.

James’ hand curled over her shoulder, saying nothing as her tears finally fell.


	59. Family

The moment was broken by an elderly woman stepping out onto the porch, cane in hand.

James couldn’t hide his grin.

Lydia brushed the tears away, barely negating the urge to glare, “What’s so funny?”

John and his mother separated…

“Wait for it.”

The woman swung, the cane breaking on impact on John’s raised arm.

A shocked laugh slipped out as the woman, his grandmother, continued to beat on him whilst also yelling in that unfamiliar language. She saw their mother trying to calm her down, but John held up his other hand as he tried to get a word edgewise. Lydia cleared her throat, somehow keeping the snickers at bay, “Now what?”

James smiled, “She’ll calm down. For now we watch.”

“What’s she saying?”

“After the whole thing in Phoenix happened, the media blamed him for it and he ran. The X-Men found him soon after that and… he never came back. _Shimaa_ and I understood. He didn’t want to put a target on our backs, but _shiwóyé_ …” he motioned with a hand, “she didn’t… for a long time.”

Lydia looked over, John having pulled the woman into his arms. “He’s lucky to have a family like you all.”


	60. Advice

“Lydia is it?”

She looked up from her position on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest, meeting the eyes of John’s mother. She uncurled her legs and nodded, resisting the urge fix a skirt she hadn’t worn in years…

“John told me why you’re here.” She sat down next to her, a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I’m so sorry for your loss. She sounded like a beautiful soul.”

Lydia leaned into her, the tears falling once more. She wished her mother had shown this kind of care… this kind of love, but she knew better. Her mother wanted a perfect, flawless _human_ daughter and that was never going to be her. “She was. Allison actually reminds me a lot of John.”

She smiled, looking to where the boys were helping their grandmother. She searched Lydia’s face, finding something that had her expression softening into a mother’s _look_ , “Like I said… a beautiful soul.”

Lydia blushed, “It’s not like… I don’t…”

“I know my son, Lydia.” She brushed away the tears, “Like his father, he’s a born leader, but for all his talk of responsibilities and priorities... he cares.” Dark brown bore into hazel, “He cares about _you_.”


	61. Prophet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any italicized text in brackets is being spoken in Western Apache.

John glanced over to where _shimaa_ was sitting with Lydia, their voices at a level where he’d have to use his abilities to hear them, but the stern look _shiwóyé_ shot him was like a physical slap and he felt like a child again as he quickly averted his eyes. 

John returned to rolling the dough, setting them aside for her to flatten and fry. Willing to suffer his grandmother’s punishment, he looked over once more to find Lydia wrapped in an embrace, shoulders shaking as she cried.  

[ _You worry about her._ ] 

His face warmed and he cleared his throat, [ _She has been through a lot._ ] 

She rested a hand on his chest, [ _She is not the only one._ ] 

He flexed his hand, not trusting himself to grip the edge of the counter. 

[ _What is troubling you?_ ] 

He wasn’t sure if he should voice the premonition of their pending attack with James nearby. Adding his impulsive brother to the mix wouldn’t help if the attackers were who he feared them to be. [ _She sees an attack on us in the coming days._ ] 

[ _She is a prophet?_ ] 

He frowned, [ _Her visions predict death._ ] 

Her face hardened, [ _You must be cautious then._ ] 


	62. Regrets

He was grateful she hadn’t said anything to _shimaa_ when they sat down to eat, which allowed the fond smile to become a little less forced as James regaled Lydia with stories of their youth. He normally hated it when James pulled out the past, but he was willing to endure any embarrassment if it meant keeping that light in her eyes… 

Guilt squeezed his chest at the thought of how long he’d been away. James himself had filled out. The lines of his grandmother’s face had deepened with time, her movements just a little bit stiffer, and he could see the grey streaking his mother’s dark hair and wondered if he was the cause of it…  

For the longest time, he’d thought leaving would be for the best… that his absence would keep Sentinel Services from his family, but in that moment, he realized the mistake of cutting all ties. Coming home was liking breathing again, the weight of the Mutant Underground being lifted from his shoulders, if only for a moment. 

This place held so many happy memories and he wanted to soak in as much warmth as he could. 

There was no telling what the future held. 


	63. Stubborn

Lydia, claiming a headache, retired early and his mother and grandmother quickly followed, leaving John sitting at the kitchen table with James. His brother was calling contacts he’d sent ahead to Beacon Hills so they knew what to expect.

From his brother’s expression as he hung up, the news wasn’t great.

“So what’s happening?”

He set the phone down, “Gerard is attending the funeral with his men. He’s hoping Scott and Lydia will turn up so he can kill the mutants who ‘killed’ his granddaughter.” His eyes looked in the direction of their guest bedroom where she slept.

He knew what James was going to tell him, but he wasn’t sure he could do it. He didn’t want to deny Lydia the opportunity to say goodbye to her friend and he got the feeling she wouldn’t be cowed by her Purifier grandfather, not after coming this far and not after finding out that Scott had fallen into Gerard’s crosshairs and refused to leave his mother behind. “If you want to tell her, good ahead.”

James frowned, “You’re seriously not going to talk her out of it?”

“All I’m saying is that she won’t abandon her friends… she’s not the type.”


	64. Safety

James left him to his thoughts.

John looked at the phone sitting on the counter, wondering if he was making the right call in his assumptions about Lydia’s response. But given her reaction to finding out about Scott while also knowing the true nature of the attack told him he was correct.

She knew the oncoming dangers and seemed ready to face them.

John pushed himself away from the table, walking silently through the kitchen and opening his bag. Changing into basketball shorts, he padded back to the living room and grabbed the afghan blanket from the back of the couch, moving the pillows to one end and just _listened_ …

They were all peacefully asleep, even Lydia, and John wondered if the talk she’d had with _shimaa_ had anything to do with it. His mother had always been someone a person could bare their soul to without fear of judgement…

One of the good things about coming home was the ease in which he quieted his senses, the familiar surroundings providing a level of security he’d never be able to find anywhere else and is was all too easy to succumb to exhaustion the second he laid his head down.


	65. Hollow

A light touch on his shoulder woke him and he met the worried eyes of his grandmother.

He stood, barely negating the urge to shield her from threats. The hyper-vigilance instilled in him from the war on top of his abilities didn’t help matters. John brushed the hair back from his face. [ _What is it?_ ]

[ _The woman…_ ] she paused, [ _she is empty_.]

His confusion only lasted a split second before he asked “Where is she?”

She frowned at his shirtless state, [ _She’s upstairs in the bathroom_.]

He hurried upstairs to where his brother stood outside the doorway and entered.

The mirror was cracked and bloodied, the shape matching the hand now dripping red into the sink. Lydia’s eyes stared unseeing at her own reflection, her face remaining emotionless even as his mother pulled shards of glass from her hand with tweezers.

“How long has she been like this?”

“I heard the mirror break a minute ago, but before that…” James shrugged, his expression a combination of concern and guilt.

John nodded, running a hand over his face. He could feel their eyes on him and the questions they held.

He wasn’t sure he had the answers to any of them.


	66. Depth

Lydia looked down at her bandaged hand, wishing she could escape the prying eyes of the Proudstar family (John included). They were hovering and the worry was almost suffocating. She wanted to be left alone to the quiet… to her thoughts, even if they weren’t the brightest…

John thankfully noticed this and pulled everyone away with a parting gaze that might have had something akin to longing buried in those depths…

“Nope,” She muttered to herself once she was sure he was downstairs, “not going down that road.”

Letting herself think that his feelings for her ran that deep… it was a dangerous road to travel.

She hadn’t missed the tension between him and Sonya, which made her think they’d had a serious relationship at some point. Lydia knew better than to try and initiate anything new when there was still clearly something going on and when she didn’t know his feelings in return.

That was basically asking for her heart to get broken, more so than it already was…

There was a knock, “Lydia?”

She looked up, John’s mother’s standing in the doorway with a steaming mug of what looked like tea.

Lydia smiled tiredly, “You can come in.”


	67. Trials

Lydia looked at the mug in the woman’s hand far longer than she should’ve been, just watching the steam curl and disappear into the air as his mother sat on the end of the bed for almost a full minute before she spoke, “I’m sorry about all of this…” she waved her hand, “worrying you all.”

“You’re alright.” She smiled sadly, “Not the first broken mirror in this house.”

“I know, but every time I go to that place…” She looked down at her bandaged hand, “I lose time…I feel nothing.” her eyes stung as tears fell, “but when I do remember… when I finally come back to myself… all I feel is pain.”

Setting the mug aside, the woman pulled her into a hug that only mothers can give: a tight supportive embrace that carried so much warmth and safety and love… “You have strength others would envy, to see what you’ve seen and tried to make the world better. These abilities are trying, but you have shown how they can be used for good and I know you don’t feel like this right now… but I know you’ll get through it and be stronger than ever before”


	68. Son

Lydia wasn’t sure how long she’d stayed in the woman’s embrace, but she pulled away from the woman a little guilty. She should be spending time with John, the son she hadn’t seen in two years, not with a girl she’d known for a day and Lydia said as much.

“My sons are warriors… soldiers.” She pulled out dog tags from her shirt, “My husband was the same.” Her eyes welled with tears, but her voice was steady, “I have come to terms with the fact that their fights will take them far from home and that they may not make it back. I’ve learned that the worrying and the stress taints the time I get.”

“How long was John in the Marines?”

“Five years.” Her tone took on a bitter edge “They kept him there for so long because of his abilities… said he was valuable.”

Lydia agreed. Mutants like John were powerful soldiers to have, that is until 7/15. Then he became a “threat” to the very same public that he’d fought to protect. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded.

Lydia pursed her lips, “You know… I never got your name.”

Her smile was identical to John’s, “It’s Maria.”


	69. Breakfast

After splashing cold water on her face, Maria walked with her back into the kitchen where John, James, and their grandmother were making breakfast and talking in that language that Lydia found beautiful the more she heard it spoken.

_Are sure it’s not because John is one of the ones speaking it?_

Her conscious sounded so much like Allison and when he finally looked up at her, she was sure her face turned bright red. Lydia tugged at the hem of her shirt, somehow managing to smile through her internal battle, “Good morning.”

James muttered something under his breath to John that had their grandmother rapping him on the knuckles with a wooden spoon and John’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter and was that a blush she saw…?

“Good morning, Lydia.”

She pushed the observation away, “So what’s for breakfast?”

“Well, we got bacon and scrambled eggs and toast…”

She took a plate from the stack on the counter and walked over to the small buffet that had been set up. From the smell along, her stomach growled and she couldn’t even remember the last time she eaten something homemade, “Well it all sounds amazing.”

James grinned, “Then dig in.”


	70. Convince

The goodbyes were all bittersweet and Lydia was glad they’d taken the detour to go see John’s family. There were no words to describe what it was like for her to be in a surrounding that was so comforting and safe, where no one looked at her like she might snap or start speaking in tongues.

John himself was somewhat lighter in the first few hours of the drive, that tension in his shoulders returning after they passed through the California-Arizona border station. His eyes had that intense, distant focus that came whenever he pushed his senses.

Lydia wished he’d stop doing that. She hadn’t missed the signs of a headache in the days before their stop in Camp Verde and felt guilty, knowing that her vision was the reason he was acting like this. Granted, it’s not like her thoughts weren’t running along the same grain.

She had to get Scott to leave Beacon Hills somehow, away from Gerard.

She couldn’t lose anyone else… not to the Purifiers… not when she could do something about it…

Death was not something a person should just get used to because it was starting to become all too common in their lives.


	71. Protect

John looked over at Lydia as they pulled into a motel in Bakersfield, frowning when she didn’t look up from her notebook. At first, he thought she hadn’t noticed them stopping or that she was in one of those catatonic states again, but the change in her breathing told him otherwise. “Lydia?”

She slipped the notebook back into her bag, “Yeah… sorry.”

He reached back to grab his own, “You’re fine.”

Lydia got out of the car, walking ahead to the front office.

John locked the car and shouldered the bag. He pulled out his wallet as he pushed the door open, eyes immediately noticing how close the man was standing to her and how uncomfortable she was…

He dropped the keys into his pocket before he dented them out of shape and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her in and pressing a soft kiss to her temple. He felt the tension leave her body and John smiled at the man, the normally friendly expression an unspoken warning. “Just a room for the night, please.”

The room key was given without a word.

Lydia squeezed his hand when they entered the room before pulling away, “Good night, John.”


	72. Comfort

He’d been watching Lydia sleep for far longer than was appropriate, but the image of Lydia’s vacant eyes staring into a cracked mirror kept him awake… John still felt guilty about not noticing the episode until she’d already hurt himself. The closer they got to Beacon Hills, the worse they got and John was determined to protect her… even if it was from herself.

The headache than had been building behind his eyes had finally hit migraine territory and he pinched the bridge of his nose, the lack of sleep not helping matters. He pushed himself out of the chair, shutting the bathroom door behind him, and turned on the water.

He sighed as the steaming water beat against the taut muscles of his shoulders and neck. John laid his forehead against the tile, letting the water run in rivulets down his back for nearly thirty minutes before his body finally loosened up.

He dried himself quickly and pulled on basketball shorts, slipping under the sheets next to her and resting a hand between her shoulder blades. The beating against his palm was a comfort he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have, but it did help him fall asleep.


	73. Scars

He awoke to his arm draped over her side and his nose in her hair, pulling away as quickly as he dared. It was best not to have a repeat of the night before last, where she’d nearly thrown herself on to the floor in her embarrassed haste...

Running a hand through his hair, he changed and slipped a key into his pocket, pulling on his boots and walking to the gas station on the corner. 

He watched as the sun rose, looking both ways before crossing the street and pulling open the door. The clerk hardly glanced up when he rang up the two black coffees, John making his way back to their room minutes later...

He opened the door just as Lydia took off her shirt...

Scars were something that he’d gotten used to, both as a soldier and a leader of the Underground so he could tell that the pale shiny marks crisscrossing her back were electrical burns by Taser rods and that the dark line wrapping around her hip was an attempted stabbing...

She whipped around, face burning, “John! I didn’t...”

He smiled, like he wasn’t fighting the urge to hit something _hard_ , “You’re good. Coffee?”


	74. Unspoken

His eyes closed with a sigh after she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door, feeling himself loosening with every deep breath he took in the next few minutes. Her time in Eichen House was done… no one there could hurt her anymore. No one _anywhere_ could hurt her anymore, not if he had anything to do with it…

She walked out a minute later in a fresh change of clothes, hardly looking at him as she gathered up her things in her bag and muttered a _thank you_ as she took the proffered coffee and walked out to the car with her head down...

He in turn said nothing as he unlocked the car for her and slid into the driver’s seat and after grabbing a quick breakfast, they were on the road once more and John calculated that they would be in Beacon Hills within the next six hours.

He looked over at Lydia as she moved to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, once again finding another scar hidden underneath the fine hairs at her temples. _Electroshock therapy._ John flexed his hands as too not break anything, reaching out to turn on the radio.


	75. Arrival

The drive to Beacon Hills was silent, save for the music.

John could feel the tension around her thicken as they got within the town limits, following her directions as she guided him to a veterinary clinic on the other edge of town and watching her tug on the hem of her tank top.

He tried to keep his eyes ahead, taking in the new surroundings.

Beacon Hills was small, probably no bigger than 20,000 people, with a couple separate areas of housing, a hospital, police station, and a school at every level. He tried to ignore her flinch as they passed the cemetery, keeping both hands on the wheel as they turned into the small parking lot of Beacon Hills Animal Clinic.

He’d barely put the car in park before she was running towards the front door.

Locking the car, he kept back as wrapped her arms around who he guessed was Scott.

An older black man came to stand next to him, “John Proudstar?”

He shook his hand, “That’s me.”

“Deaton. I wished we could’ve met under different circumstances.”

He looked over at Lydia and Scott, wrapped in a tight, tearful embrace with a frown, “Me too.”


	76. Blame

“I’m sorry,” were the first words she spoke to Scott in nearly two years.

He pulled away with a slightly surprised expression, “Lydia, you have nothing to apologize for.”

She scoffed, “I’m the reason she became a target in the first place.”

“You weren’t the only mutant she was defending, Lydia.” He ran his hands up and down her arms, dark brown eyes carrying that ever-present warmth when he smiled at her sadly. “The blame falls on those who killed her.”

Her chest ached, “I saw the article, Scott.”

He sighed, like he knew the topic would come up, “I can’t leave my mom, Lydia. You know that.”

“Maybe she could transfer hospitals… there’s got be at least six in Phoenix.” She looked back to where John was talking to Deaton, “I’m sure John could talk to his brother-”

“I can’t ask her to uproot her life for me. It’s not fair.”

“You and I both know Melissa McCall would do anything for her son.”

He blinked back tears, “She shouldn’t have to.”

“I can talk to her if you-”

“No, you’re fine,” he glanced over her shoulder for a long moment, “So you and John?”

Lydia blushed.

Scott laughed.


	77. Friend

“There’s nothing going on with me and John.”

His smile turned knowing, “But you _want_ something to happen?”

She sighed, “Doesn’t really matter what I want though, does it?”

“So, he said no?”

“No.”

“You didn’t ask him?”

“No, I didn’t ask him because he’s already in a relationship.”

He frowned, “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“Honestly… I don’t think he is either.” She shrugged, “I don’t want to get in the middle of _whatever_ they have. All I know is that me trying to start something with him… I’ve been with the Mutant Underground for a little over a month. Probably too soon to be trying to with one of the leaders.”

He held up his hands, still smiling, “Okay, I won’t ask again.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t make promises about my mom.”

Lydia cursed in Latin.

Scott wrapped her in a hug again, “You know we love you, Lydia.”

She’d almost forgotten how amazing Scott’s hugs were (not as good as John’s) and she was _not_ going down that path right now… She buried her face in his chest, eyes stinging with tears, “I missed you too Scott.”

His hand ran down her spine, “I know.”


	78. Puzzle

Being back at in Beacon Hills after all that time… nothing there had changed and for a moment, Lydia could almost convince herself that she was still the same. That Allison wasn’t dead and that she had never taken a life, but that was just wishful thinking.

People had died and she had to live with the hand she’d had in that.

“Lydia?”

Her head snapped up at the new, but not unfamiliar, voice, “Stiles?”

He pulled her in, “It’s been so long.”

She hugged him tighter.

Stiles pulled back, sitting next to her on the couch in Melissa’s living room, leg bouncing and hands fidgeting. He kept looking from her to John to Scott and back again, the wheels turning as he pieced together everything. “Is Scott going back with you two?”

She rested her chin on her knees, “No. John has a brother in Phoenix.”

“Where are you going after this?”

“Back with John to Atlanta.”

He frowned, “Why would Sentinel Services send you across the country?”

She shrugged, “Not sure. Something about some secret program and military contract and wolves or hounds? That time was pretty fuzzy…I didn’t get everything.”

Stiles nodded, eyes narrowed in thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will definitely come into place later on!


	79. Reminder

Lydia set her bag on the bed in the room that Melissa had made up for her, making sure the door was shut and the window was covered before she changed out of her clothes.

Pulling up her sleep shorts, she paused to run her fingers over the scar wrapping around her left hip. Another patient went to attack an orderly with a shard of glass and she’d jumped in between them, getting fifteen stitches for her efforts…

How could she have been so stupid as to let him see her scars?

Lydia knew he’d seen them. The man was too damn observant not to…

She rubbed the raised skin at her temples, the phantom feeling of electricity coursing through her had Lydia clenching her jaw and she shook herself free. She was safe here with the McCalls and with John…

She looked at the clock. _11:06 pm._

In twelve hours, Allison’s coffin would be lowered in the ground.

That was it… then her best friend would be dead.

The reminder was a sucker punch to the chest, a sob slipping out as she sank to the floor.

The door creaked open and Lydia found herself in Melissa’s embrace.


	80. Dressed

It felt weird, sending Melissa out with the money she’d been given by Sonya to get her a dress and flowers that morning, but she knew that going out into town wouldn’t help her at all. That didn’t stop her from pacing back and forth, though. She knew John could hear her from downstairs but was thankful when he didn’t come up to investigate...

She peeked through the blinds, noting that it was nearing midafternoon now, which meant that funeral procession would now be going from Beacon Hills Cemetery and the Argent household for the wake and Lydia wished she could be there without being killed the second Gerard saw her…

There was a tickle in her throat and she clenched her jaw to keep the scream trapped behind her teeth, not wanting to announce her presence. She knew the neighborhood. Hell, her mother lived just two houses down and Lydia didn’t want to think about interacting with Natalie Martin right now. Her well of calm was running dry…

There was a knock on the door.

Lydia steeled herself, sighing in relief when Melissa spoke.

“Lydia, I have all your things… if you want to get ready?”

“Yeah, come in.”


	81. Reasons

He looked up as she descended the stairs, wearing a simple black summer dress and flats with her hair pulled back into a braid. His eyes were drawn to the deep red of her lips, pulling them away before he thought too long on what else had pulled his gaze…

Melissa came to stand next to them, “Are you alright?”

“It’s been a trying week.”

Brown eyes studied him, “For you or for Lydia?”

He looked out the window, “Both… I think.”

She hummed, saying nothing for a long moment as she followed his gaze, “Thank you, for allowing her to come back to say goodbye to Allison. I can’t imagine the risks you’re taking in doing this.”

He nodded.

“Am I correct in assuming that there’s another reason for this road trip?”

John wet his lips, “I lost a…friend a while back, someone I served with overseas. He was killed by Sentinel Services when we were rescuing mutants from a detention facility. We had to leave him behind…” he shifted his weight with a sigh, “Lydia deserves the opportunity to say goodbye to her friend. Not everyone gets that.”

Melissa rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.


	82. Visitor

Watching Lydia interact with the people from her old life was like looking through a window into the past. Her eyes were a little brighter and her smiles wider, the tension completely gone as she embraced Scott and his mother. Yet he could see the hole where Allison had fit into the group that he knew couldn’t ever be filled.

A little after sundown, he caught the crunching of gravel under combat boots and stopped.

“John?” Lydia’s voice was soft, “What is it?”

Scott tensed next to him, “Lydia, we need to go upstairs.”

Melissa looked at her son, “Who is it?”

“It’s Argent.”

John looked over at Lydia, her eyes widening and heart racing. She was scared.

Melissa spoke, “All of you go upstairs… now.”

He caught the woman’s eyes, seeing something in them that reminded him of his own mother and grandmother: a protective fire that promised hell to anyone who laid a hand on their child. John could see Scott going to argue and he cut him off, “She’s got this. Let’s go.”

As silently as they could, they moved up the stairs and into Scott’s room.

The door downstairs opened.

John closed his eyes and listened.


	83. Conversation

_Melissa’s tone was sharp, “I already told you Scott wasn’t here.”_

_“I’m not here for Scott, you know that.”_

_Her heart rate spiked, but her voice was steady, “Then enlighten me.”_

_“Gerard… he knows about Lydia. He knows she’s here.”_

_“And why are you telling me this?”_

_“Melissa, don’t play dumb… it doesn’t suit you.”_

_She sighed._

_“I know you won’t believe me when I say this, but I don’t want either of them harmed-”_

_“You mean killed.”_

_“I know Scott had nothing to do with her death and… Allison loved them both, Melissa. My daughter died protecting them and I can’t let that be in vain. I came to warn them… they need to get out of town now.”_

_She snorted, “They’re both too stubborn to run. Unless you think you can convince them otherwise?”_

_Argent shifts his weight, “Does that mean I can come in?”_

_“Leave your guns on the table and you can.”_

_“You got yourself a deal.”_

John opened his eyes and met Scott’s, the young man’s expression telling him that he wasn’t the only one with enhanced senses. He glanced at the door, “You heard all that?”

He nodded.

Lydia came over, “Guys… what happened?”


	84. Unexpected

Melissa came up a minute later, “I’m assuming I don’t need to reiterate the conversation?”

They shook their heads.

Lydia spoke first, “Do you believe him?”

“I’d say that the lack of men shooting up my house says that for now… he just wants to help.”

John branched out his senses, finding no movement from around the house. “He came alone.”

Scott pushed himself off the wall, “Then let’s go talk to him.”

John let them walk on ahead when they reached the bottom of the stairs. His eyes immediately found the man standing in the kitchen, leaning back against the island, and did a quick assessment.

Despite the fact that this man seemed a soldier at heart, there was a heaviness in his pale blue eyes and a weariness to his posture that told John this was a man who’d just lost his daughter… he didn’t want anyone else to die.

Argent faced him, “And you are?”

He stepped into the kitchen, “John Proudstar.”

His eyebrows lifted, “Ah… the infamous Thunderbird. No one’s seen you out west in two years.” He looked over at Lydia, “It’s good to know she’s under your protection. My father won’t be expecting that.”


	85. Care

Argent left soon after that to see if he could put his father on a false trail long enough for John and Lydia to do what they came all the way there for, but John could tell that the man thought the whole plan skeptical…

He walked over to Lydia, “We should probably get going.”

She nods.

“Oh, Lydia…” Melissa holds out a bouquet, “Here.”

Her hand trembles when she reaches out to grab them, “ _Chrysanthème blanc_ …”

Melissa smiles sadly, saying nothing as Lydia plays with the shear silver ribbon wrapped around the flower stems. She turns to John, her eyes full of a mother’s grief for a child hurt by something that she couldn’t see coming, carrying in them an unspoken message: _Take care of her_.

He lowers his chin, speaking softly, “Come on.”

She hugs Melissa and Scott one last time before moving the bouquet to one arm and shouldering her bag, following closely behind them as they reach the car.

His eyes are focused on the road as they drive, watching as the darkness was broken up by street lamps and he makes sure to park as close to the entrance as he can manage before entering.


	86. Grief

She hadn’t been to this cemetery since Allison’s mom passed their senior year, but little had changed. The soft glow of candles and solar lights dotted the other headstones as she made her way over to the Argent family plot.

Lydia knelt on the ground near the metal sign stuck in the ground with Allison’s name scrawled on it, setting the flowers down. She barely registered the cold and wet grass was on her bare knees, reaching out to rest her hand on the metal.

This was all that was left of Allison: a soon-to-be headstone and white chrysanthemums…

Her nails dug into her thighs as she rocked forward, near-silent sobs ripping through her over and over again. Her body shook and she was thankful for the grounding touch of John’s palm between her shoulder blades, his presence calming her sobs until they were only deep shuddering breaths.

John crouched next to her, murmuring reassurances in that beautiful language as he ran his hand up and down her spine, the words not know but the meaning was clear. He too knew what it was like to lose those close to him…

He tensed up.

Lydia’s heart lept into her throat. 


	87. Escape

“John?”

His fingers splayed across the ground and he closed his eyes, cocking his head to the side, a couple seconds passing before his eyes snapped open and he stood, “They’re coming through the side entrance. There’s seven men… all armed.”

He helped her up, “Let’s go.”

Lydia wiped the tears blurring her vision and followed him, running to keep up with his brisk pace. She kept whipping her head back and forth, blood pounding in her ears as they weaved through the headstones.

There was little relief when they reached the car, Lydia barely shutting the passenger door before they were moving, she buckled herself in, gripping the door handle with white knuckles as he sped through the empty streets with the headlights off.

John’s jaw was clenched tightly, hands periodically flexing on the steering wheel.

Lydia watched the darkened streets pass by in a blur, the sound of her surroundings fading away as the static of the radio became louder and she reached out to turn the dial-

The car swerved, John’s face tight with pain as he clamped his hands over his ears.

Before she could react, they went off the road and slammed into a tree.


	88. Fulfilled

The impact was jarring, enough for the airbags to deploy and leave her dazed. She blinked the spots from her vision. When she put a hand to her throbbing head, it came back red. Lydia turned to look at John.

He was still holding his head in his hands, teeth grinding…

“John? What’s happening?”

“It’s some kind of…’ he growled, “high-pitched frequency.”

The sound she’d heard in her premonition suddenly made sense and Lydia knew without a doubt that Gerard had something in that ridiculous arsenal of his that was capable of transmitting a sound meant to disorient anything with sense superior to that of a normal human… “We need to get you out of range-”

“No… you need… to go.”

She looked at him incredulously. If Gerard knew to bring something that disoriented John then who the hell knew what else he had? Just because a possible premonition told her death was near didn’t mean she was going to believe it. She was here. She could stop it from happening. “I’m not leaving you.”

He finally looked up, the intensity in his eyes absolutely _searing_ , “Please… They’ll kill you…”

It was that plea that finally had her listening. “Okay…”


	89. Thwarted

The third bodily shove sent the door swinging open.

Lydia hit the ground with a _thud_ , scrambling to her feet and looking around frantically. The only path available to her was through the thick forest and while she might’ve hesitated on account of getting lost in the dark, she had to trust that John would come and find her when all was said and done. All she could do now was stay out of their way until then.

So she ran.

A flare of lights from far behind her startled her and she looked over her shoulder to see the blue of LED headlights shining into the forest, not noticing she’d reached the crest of the hill until it declined sharply and sent her tumbling.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out as she collided with a tree trunk, blood flooding her mouth. It didn’t slow her descent, though, and she continued down the hill until she landed in a creek with a splash.

The cold water was a shock to her system and she gasped, crawling out of the creek bed.

Lydia didn’t make it far before a hand grabbed her braid and pulled.


	90. Captive

“Long time no see babe.”

She cried out as she was shoved to the ground _hard_. She twisted around, seeing her ex, Jackson Whittmore, wearing a black hoodie with a white cross. Lydia should’ve been surprised that he’d joined Gerard, but he’d always been the _pretty-but-dumb_ type…

“You know, I thought you were smarter than that.”

She pulled herself up onto her hands and knees, “Still smarter than you.”

His booted foot connected with her stomach, sending her back into the frigid water.

Lydia coughed, struggling in vain as he gripped her wrist in a bruising hold. She stumbled as she was dragged up the hill, her whole body aching and throbbing with each step and it wasn’t until she was once again thrown to the ground that she could really focus on her surroundings.

There were three groaning bodies on the ground and Lydia watched as John threw another hard enough to send him _through_ the windshield of one of the cars. Her eyes widened as John shrugged the bullets off with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

Gerard calmly took Jackson’s place, pressing a gun to her temple. “I would stop fighting if I were you Mister Proudstar.”


	91. Frozen

With how still he went, most would’ve thought the gun was pointed at him.

Two of the remaining men trained their guns on him, as if they shot him enough times something would hit. There was a dark part of him that laughed at the thought. If Lydia died now, nothing they had could stop him…

Gerard smiled coldly, “That’s it.”

John glanced at Lydia before returning to Gerard, his expression impassive.

“The Thunderbird, a spirit of power and strength, an omen of war…able to imbue warriors with indomitable will and ensure them victory over their foes.” He chuckled, “A fitting name for a leader of the Mutant Underground.”

He clenched his jaw.

Gerard motioned behind John, the men coming to stand on either side of Lydia. He unloaded the magazine and cleared the chamber, picking up the unused bullet and holding it between his fingers, “Can you tell me what this is?”

The metal was unlike anything he’d seen in his time overseas and John narrowed his eyes.

“Adamantium. Hardest metal alloy on Earth. Capable of cutting through anything…” he slid the magazine in and drew back the release, the gun now pointed at his head. “Even you.”


	92. Saved

John eyed the weapon warily.

He’d heard of the metal, having been used in the Weapon X program decades ago, but hadn’t thought any of it had remained. John knew, though, that at the current distance, it would be as effective on him as any headshot.

If he could just move fast enough, maybe he could get out of this with a non-fatal wound…

“Ah ah ah…” he raised another gun at Lydia’s head, “Get down.”

He met Lydia’s tear-filled hazel eyes and lowered himself onto his knees.

Lydia lurched forward, straining against the men, “No! John!”

A shot hit the dirt in front of her, “I would be quiet if I were you, Ms. Martin.”

Her eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, holding back one of her devastating screams.

“Now onto our next order of business.”

He caught the sound of a crossbow being drawn in the forest behind her and held Lydia’s gaze, his chest aching at the tears streaming down her face. It would all be over soon… “Everything is going to be okay, Lydia. I promise.”

Her lips parted, “John…”

A bolt went through the hand holding the gun aimed at Lydia, the weapon falling.

And John moved.


	93. Proud

Gerard was quick to recover, turning to John with rage in his eyes.

He aimed and shot.

Pain sliced through his side as he rolled to dodge, but he continued, disarming the old man in time to see Argent run out of the trees to take down the men on Lydia. He knocked Gerard out and advanced on the last man, stopping as he pulled her up roughly by her hair, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a gun to her temple.

Before John could move, she grabbed the barrel of the gun in one hand and slammed her other elbow back into his stomach, spinning to smash the butt of the gun into his temple before throwing the weapon as far as she could into the forest.

She walked over to Argent, hands trembling, “Thank you…Allison would be proud.”

He pulled her into a hug, turning to John and pointing to the nondescript black car. “I brought a car for you two. It’s got fake plates, a stash of cash, a full tank of gas, and a first aid kit. Your things are in the backseat.”

John nodded, ignoring the intense throbbing in his side, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point on, I'm taking liberties (i.e. BSing) with John's injuries so just bear with me.


	94. Noticed

John opened the door for Lydia, offering her a hand. He was careful to keep his left arm lowered, not wanting her to see anything amiss. They needed to get as far away from Beacon Hills as they could before seeing to their injuries…

He looked at Lydia as he slid into the driver’s seat.

She was drenched from her fall, lips bloodied with bruises covered the pale skin of her arms and legs. Her entire body trembled, yet she smiled over at him when he turned on the heater. “Thanks.”

He returned the smile, ignoring the tightness in his chest and the sticky warmth soaking the side of his shirt. Neither was easy, but he managed to do just that for nearly two hours before his pain became noticeable.

“John…what’s wrong?”

He glanced over, seeing her frown before looking back at the road. “It’s nothing.”

Lydia’s hand caught his wrist, “Bullshit…look at me.”

He turned to her.

She ran a cataloging gaze along his body, pausing on his left side. “You were hit, weren’t you?”

“I’m fine, Lydia.”

“So that’s a yes.” She sighed, “We’re stopping at the next hotel. Got it?”

Her tone brokered no argument.


	95. Mortal

He buttoned up his jacket as not to freak out the desk clerk and got a room for the night.

She shouldered her bag with a small wince, grabbing the first aid box as he picked up his own. Her eyes kept looking over at him, not saying anything until the door shut behind them both. “Alright…let me see.”

He shrugged off his jacket with a grimace, not missing the sharp intake of breath from her as his bloodied t-shirt was revealed. In one quick motion, he took that off as well, turning to get a better look at the wound.

The bullet graze below his ribs was a little deeper than he’d thought, but the bleeding had slowed. He should’ve been more concerned to see so much of his own blood, but given the circumstances, it was probably the best outcome at the time. “You’re going to have to pack it as much as you can. Stitches won’t work.”

She nodded, opening the first aid kit and pulling out elastic bandages, gauze, and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. Lydia’s expression didn’t change as she cleaned and packed the wound, but he could’ve sworn her hands were shaking.


	96. Nervous

She knew he could see her shaking hands and hoped he contributed it more to the fear of what could’ve happened instead of the feeling of all that warm, brown skin under her fingers as she secured the bandages…

Lydia sat back and sighed, “There, all done.”

He gave her a small smile, “Thanks.”

She pushed herself off the bed with a wince, her entire right side throbbing from her collision with the tree trunk and kicked off her shoes. Lydia bent over slowly, hand on her side, finding her bag already in John’s hand. “Thank you.”

He furrowed his brow, concerned eyes running the length of her body. “You’re hurt.”

“Nothing serious.” She took her bag, “Just some bruising is all.”

“Well,” he pursed his lips, motioning to her injured side, when you’re done with your shower…I want to get that checked out alright? Just to be certain.”

Lydia nodded, “Okay. Yeah, that works.”

She walked past him and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and locking it. With a resigned sigh, she set the bag on top of the closed toilet seat and began the slow, painful process of getting out of her ruined dress.


	97. Anticipation

The hot water felt almost bittersweet on her battered body, loosening tight muscles and stinging the lacerations. Lydia undid the braid and laid her head back against the tile. The images of Gerard pointing a gun at John’s head would probably feature in her nightmares for the foreseeable future. The sight of the wound was jarring and told her just how bad everything could’ve gone if Chris hadn’t intervened…

He could’ve died... _John_ could’ve die and it would’ve been all her fault.

She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face and a choked sound leaving her throat. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Her ribs protested the movement, but in that moment she didn’t care…

“Lydia, is everything alright?”

She opened her eyes and cleared her throat, “Yeah. Everything’s good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah…I’ll be out in a few.”

She spent those minutes calming her pounding hear and quickened breathing, washing the dried mud, dirty creek water, and blood off her skin and out of her hair before stepping out and drying herself off.

Pulling on short and a bra, she tied her damp hair back into a messy bun before opening the door.

 


	98. Near

It took considerable effort not to cross her arms over her bare stomach when his eyes lifted from the map he’d spread out on the desk. She swallowed when his eyes ran the length of her body, the deep brown depths full of concern. Lydia had never been so self-conscious before, eyeing the end of the bed…

He motioned her forward, a small smile on his lips, “You can come closer…I won’t bite.”

She blushed, stepping forward and slowly lowering herself.

His fingers were feather light on her skin, pausing over each bruise and cut, examining each one with the same level of intensity. He gently prodded the largest bruise when she’d collided with the tree trunk, making note of her wince. He pressed a hand to that side and closed his eyes, “Breathe deeply for me.”

She did as he asked, breath hitching as her ribs ached.

He dropped his hand, “Well no broken ribs, just bruised.”

Lydia was glad that he hadn’t mentioned her scars, her bruised skin feeling strangely cooler without his touch. She looked over, slightly surprised to find him still sitting close to her, one long leg tucked under him as he faced her.


	99. Urge

Like the moment he’d woken her from the nightmare, she had the insane, nagging urge to kiss him again and she’d normally be able to put distance between them, but after the confrontation with Gerard…she’d be lucky if she could move, let alone walk away. She swallowed the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry…for getting you shot.”

He looked at her, eyes full of… _something_ , “It’s alright. I’ll heal.”

She glanced at the bandages wrapped around his torso, a question spilling from her lips before she could stop it, “How long has it been since you’ve…” she motioned to his side.

“Been seriously injured?”

Lydia nodded.

He ran a hand through his hair, “Last time was when I was about fifteen.”

Her eyes tracked the movement, watching as stubborn strands of dark hair fell back into his face, wanting to reach out... She was sure she sounded distracted when she asked, “What happened?”

“Got in a fight.”

The haze cleared and she looked at him, surprised, “Really?”

“Yeah, some older kids were picking on James at the time so I stepped in.”

She smiled at him, “I’m guessing you won?”

A smirk was what she got in response.


	100. Cave

Her fingers itched to run through his hair and she curled her hands into fists in her lap, blushing as John’s expression filled with that unreadable emotion again. She felt like he was looking straight through her, that any mask she up around him would be ineffective…like he could see _exactly_ what she wanted…

His hand rested gently over her fists, “Lydia?”

She was drowning in those brown depths, her body rotating to face him of its own accord. God, she needed to stop, to pull away before she did something irreparably stupid and impulsive. It didn’t help that he hadn’t moved away…and was he getting closer?

He was fighting an internal battle and losing, “Lydia…”

Her hand slid past the crease of his elbow, trailing lightly up the curve of his bicep… she could hear the warning in his voice, telling her to stop. To step away while she still could, but she just kept moving, pulling herself forward until his warm breath fanned her face. She didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to her mouth.

_This was going to be her worst decision to date…_

Her lips brushed lightly over his and she was gone…


	101. Soft

Everything about her was soft.

Her lips.

Her hands.

Her skin.

John knew he should pull away, put distance between them, but the thought was distant and disappeared like smoke when fingers ran over his scalp and she slid a leg across his lap, straddling his hips.

He breathed in the scent of her sage shampoo when he pulled her in, ignoring the twinge in his side as she arched into him and captured her mouth in another kiss, his hands following the curve of her spine. This one full of heat and want and need…

The shrill ringing of his burner phone broke the haze, snapping both of them out of it as Lydia scrambled off of him with a small wince and he stood up too quickly, the bullet wound sending another flash of pain through him and he cursed himself as he answered the phone still a little breathless, “This is John.”

“John?” Lorna’s voice had a concerned edge, “Are you alright?”

He racked a hand through his hair, a harsh echo of her gentler touch… He sighed, turning away from the bed and distant Lydia, “We had an encounter with Allison’s grandfather, but we’re both fine.”


	102. Worry

“If I hadn’t just gotten a panicked call from your brother I might believe you.”

John bit back a curse, “We’re fine.”

“Allison’s dad called him.” Lorna sighed when he said nothing in response and the frown could be heard in her voice, “We’ve been working together for almost two years, John. I can tell when you’re lying…just tell me what happened.”

“The grandfather had an adamantium bullet…it grazed me, but I’m good.”

“Shit,” she muttered, “will it need stitches?”

“I’ll have Marco cauterize when I get back.”

“If you don’t bleed out before then.”

 “Lorna-”

“No! Don’t you spout any of that “I’ll-be-fine” bullshit.” Her voice was as sharp as the metal she controlled, “I know how you are. You are not driving thirty-two hours straight. You won’t be able to. Marcos and I will meet you in Fort Worth. End of discussion.”

He bit back another curse, “Lorna…”

“Give the phone to Lydia.”

With a sigh, he turned to hand Lydia the phone, his breath catching as she pulled one of his shirts from his bag over her head, the hem falling past her shorts. He held out the phone, “Lorna wants to talk to you.”


	103. Irreversible

John forced himself not to listen in on the conversation, instead stepping outside and leaning his head back against the now shut door. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, trying to figure out what the hell had happened back there,

He tried telling himself that it had been the adrenaline from the fight that caused the lapse in self-control or the blood loss, but the reasoning didn’t work regardless of how he phrased it to himself. John liked to think he wouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation.

John cursed under her breath as her racing heart immediately drew his senses and disrupted his thoughts. She was scared. He shook his head and pushed off the wall as gently as he could without making noise.

Then she started crying.

He stiffened, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists to keep himself from running back inside and pulling her into his arms, to feel all those soft curves… he growled, tearing a hand through his hair and wincing as it pulled at his side.

He’d crossed a line and there was no going back.

John hoped nothing had been irreparably damaged because if it had, he’d never forgive himself.


	104. Focus

He waited until she fell asleep to return to the room, frowning at the tight ball she’d curled herself into on the edge of the bed. That couldn’t have been comfortable given her bruised ribs, but he didn’t do anything more than shift her to the middle of the mattress and tuck her under the sheets.

John straightened with a wince, lifting his shirt to check the bandages.

There was a thin line of red that had seeped through from earlier, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped…or at least slowed down. If he didn’t jostle the bandages too much, he should be fine until they met up with Lorna and Marcos.

He glanced back at Lydia.

John reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She looked so much younger when she slept, her expression softened…

He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned.

He need to keep his eye on the road ahead, on running the Mutant Underground. John knew his efforts bordered on single-minded at times, but it had been what had kept them all safe this long…his heart had to take the backseat.

He couldn’t afford to lose that focus now.


	105. Lull

John bent over the map he’d spread out, marking both the route and pit stops. He made sure to avoid Dallas if at all possible, not wanting Lydia to suffer through those memories while trying to drive.

_Snap._

He sighed, looking to see the broken ballpoint pen in his hand.

Dropping the pen in the trash, he walked to the bathroom to rinse off the ink.

Passing the mirror, he paused.

It had been a long time since he’d seen himself so pale, so sickly…

He shook himself of the thought, washing his hands of the ink and pushing his hair back before returning to the room. John tried to ignore the headache growing behind his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with a curse.

Moving Lydia as much as he could, he changed into basketball shorts and black tank top before turning off the lamp and lowering himself onto the mattress as slowly as he could so as not to wake her.

Like before, he reached out, his palm gently resting between her shoulder blades. He concentrated on the steady beating of her heart, the sound lulling him to sleep faster than anything had in a long time…


	106. Wrong

Lydia woke to a dark hotel room and the arm of a still sleeping John draped over her side with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She craned her head around, seeing his lax features that told her he was sleeping, but something was _wrong_. “John?”

Nothing.

She slid out from under his arm, her voice now at normal volume, “John?”

Still nothing.

Her insides were knotted when she reached out to shake his shoulder, “John!”

Lydia scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in a panic. _No…_ She shook her head as stared with wide eyes at John, heart pounding against her ribcage so hard she was sure the tissue would bruise itself in its panic.

He wasn’t dead…he _couldn’t_ be dead.

She reached out for a limp hand, pressing fingers to the inside of his wrist.

Relief filled her at his pulse, but it was short lived when she realized just how thready it was… how _weak_. Using the word to describe anything about John didn’t sit right, but then she saw the dark, glistening stain on his tank top and her panicked heart nearly stopped at the sight.

Blood.

A lot of it.


	107. Mend

She sprang into action, making sure the blinds were shut when she turned on the lights. She redid her messy bun and ran over to pull out the first aid kit that they’d pushed underneath the desk the night before.

Lydia ignored her aching ribs as she lifted it up and set it where she’d been laying before opening it and pulling out a small pair of scissors, running around to the other side of the bed cutting away his tank top to expose the soaked-through bandages.

She didn’t let herself pause at the sight of bright red smeared over his paling skin. The bandages must’ve come loose while he slept, the bleeding starting anew, and as she dumped the contents of the kit onto the bed, she felt panic setting in as she dug through the supplies. There had to be some kind of clotting agents in there. There _had_ to be…

Her hands began shaking and frustrated tears burned her eyes as her search proved less than fruitful. What they’d used had barely lasted the night and there wasn’t enough to keep reapplying and John couldn’t afford to lose any more blood without transfusion being a viable option…


	108. Assistance

She looked over at the burner phone sitting on the bedside table and back at John, knowing the dangers of using it without knowing if the other line was secure but she didn’t have any other choice. _He couldn’t die…_

Wiping off her hands, she dialed the number.

It was picked up after two rings, “Who is this?”

Lydia nearly let out a sob of relief, “Mr. Argent…”

There was a beep before he spoke again, “The line is secure, Lydia. Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s John.” She swallowed, walking back over to him. “He’s bleeding…a lot. And I don’t know how to stop it…and he won’t wake up and can’t find anything clotting agents…I couldn’t remember Melissa’s number and you’re the closest person that I thought could help-”

“Lydia, _breathe_.”

She swallowed, “I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s a compartment…you should be able to feel a latch in the bottom left.”

Holding the phone between her ear and shoulder, she did as he instructed, pulling up to reveal a row of olive green foil packets of various sizes. Lydia pulled out the largest one with a relieved sigh, “I found them.”


	109. Guidance

“What does it say on it?”

“QuickClot Combat Gauze TraumaPad.”

“When you remove the old bandages, immediately apply it to the wound.” There was a rustling sound on the other line, like fabric, “Once that’s done, you use one of the smaller packets that contains a roll of similar gauze to wrap it up.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure he drinks a lot of water since transfusions aren’t possible.”

Her vision blurred with tears, “Okay”

“Lydia, do you want me to come to you?”

She wiped her eyes, “No. I think I got it from here, but I will call you if anything happens.”

“Okay, good luck Lydia.”

“Thank you, Mr. Argent.”

“I think after everything that’s happened, you can just call me Chris.”

She could hear a smile in his voice, “Well then, thank you Chris.”

The moment the line went dead, she set the phone aside and took the packets over to where John was still laying. She ran back to the bathroom and grabbed the towels off the rack, setting them to the side and cutting away the soaked bandages. She swiped over the wound once before tearing open the packet with her teeth and immediately got to work.


	110. Hold

Once she was sure he wasn’t going to bleed out, she cleaned herself up the best (covering the bruises with sleeves and jeans) and paid for another two nights at the front desk before searching on the lobby computer about replenishing blood loss.

Returning to the room with her supplies, she called the only contact on the phone.

This wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

Lorna’s concerned voice came through, “John?”

“It’s Lydia actually.”

“What’s wrong with John?”

“He’s lost a lot of blood and he’s unconscious so I can’t move him right now. I’ve stopped the bleeding and am keeping an eye on him, but the sooner we can get the wound cauterized the better.”

“You hear that, babe?” Lorna asked Marcos, whose response was muffled, “Where’re you at?”

Lydia peeked out the curtains, reading the sign.

“We can be there in two days. Do you think you’ll be good until then?”

Lydia watched the rise and fall of his chest, bare skin pale and glistening with sweat. She knew that if she were to check his pulse, his skin would be frighteningly cool to the touch, “Yeah I think we can hold out.”

“I’ll see you then.”


	111. Delirium

He was cold. That was the first thing he noticed.

Everything was heavy and when he opened his eyes, his world was out of focus.

_What an unfamiliar sensation…_

John blinked, but the haze didn’t clear… His head pounded and he went to reach up, only to feel resistance and no matter how much he pulled, it didn’t budge. Either he was too weakened by his injuries or the restraints were too strong. Neither option sat right with him.

Shapes moved across his vision, but couldn’t make out anything more than colors.

Metallic hair. Blue eyes. Or was it green? A gentle hand on his brow. “ _Shi’got’į́į́_.”

“I’m right here, John. I’m right here.”

The voice wasn’t right or maybe it was muffled? “ _Doo baa shłł gozhǫǫ da_.”

“What, John? I don’t understand-”

He swallowed, his throat dry, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay.” Fingers through his hair. A press of lips to his forehead.

The touch was familiar but he couldn’t place it. It was like trying to grasp smoke and no matter how hard he strained his thoughts, the only thing he remembered was the scent of sage. It was only moments later that everything faded to black once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Shi’got’į́į́- Western Apache, roughly translates to "my light"  
> Doo baa shłł gozhǫǫ da- Western Apache for "I'm sorry."


	112. Guilt

The warbling sound of electromagnetic energy woke him and he blinked, the haze clearing to reveal bright green locks and gleaming metal. He turned his head to the side as Lorna pulled the knife back to her hand and spun it in the air with a terse expression, stopping it inches over her chest. “Lorna?”

She gripped the hilt, jumping down from the desk, “Good to see you’re awake.”

Her sharp tone brought him up short and he tried to move, but couldn’t. that was then that he finally noticed the rebar bent over his wrists and ankles and across his legs and shoulders… The side the bullet struck was numb. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, “Is there a reason I’m restrained?”

“Nearly broke Marcos’ arm when he cauterized your side.” Her expression softened at whatever expression he wore and sighed, pocketing the blade. “And before you ask, Lydia is fine. She finally fell asleep two hours ago.”

He turned his head to find Lydia curled into a tight ball in the chair, pale with dark shadows under closed eyes, hair limp as it hung over the side of the chair. He hated having put her through that…


	113. Hazy

Lorna removed the restraints, placing the bent metal in a corner of the room with more force than necessary and watching him with a frown, “You’re lucky Lydia woke up when she did or you would’ve died.”

He caught the fear in her dark eyes, “I’m sorry.”

A sardonic smile, “So you’ve said.”

John looked down at his wrists, actually impressed to find a light bracelet of bruising around each of them, and tried to remember anything after he’d fallen asleep, but nothing more than blurry shadows came to mind, “Where’s Marcos?”

“Getting breakfast.”

He nodded, slowly pulling himself up on shaky arms until his back was against the headboard.

“What the hell happened, John?”

He wondered if Lydia had told her about the vision, but quickly answered the question himself. If Lorna knew about the warning, she’d be a lot angrier, “They were more equipped than I anticipated.”

She snorted, “I would hit you if I thought it would do any good.”

He cracked a smile, “It might.”

“Don’t tempt me, Proudstar.”

Marcos came in seconds later with two bags from McDonald’s and a drink holder full of coffees, his smile relieved when he saw John, “He awakens! Hungry?”


	114. Probing

“Sorry about your arm.”

Marcos shrugged, “Don’t worry. Lorna stopped you before any damage was done.”

John grimaced, rubbing his wrists.

He turned to Lorna, “Babe, can you check on Sonya? See how she’s doing?”

She looked between the two of them with a small frown but nodded and left the room.

John’s stomach rolled at the name, guilt flashing through him. _Gods…_ What was he going to do about Sonya? He didn’t want to hurt her…or Lydia. He didn’t want to hurt anyone yet it seemed it was all that he was capable of.

“Okay man, what’s with the face? You look like you ran over someone’s dog.”

He shot his friend a look.

“Oh, don’t glare at me John.” His expression sobered, “What’s going on with you?”

He glanced at Lydia before setting his jaw and ripping his eyes away.

The action wasn’t missed by Marcos, who looked over as Lorna passed by the window still talking on the phone. He sighed, “I guess I should ask what’s going on with you and Lydia?”

“Nothing. Nothing is going on.”

Marcos motioned to Lydia, “You didn’t see her when we came through that door. She cares for you.”


	115. Target

John frowned.

“Don’t look so pained.” Marcos stood, draping a blanket over her small form. “I know you have your reasons for pushing Sonya and even Lydia away, even if I don’t agree with them.” His whole face softened when he sent a quick smile at a passing Lorna before turning back to john, “Being a leader doesn’t mean you need to be alone.”

“Being a leader puts a target on whoever is at my side. Being alone keeps them safe.”

Marcos snorted, “Being in the _Underground_ makes them targets, John. Not being with you.”

He stared at his bruised wrists, “I can’t lose focus Marcos…not now.”

“Has Lorna lost her focus? Have I? Has being with me changed anything about how she leads?” Marcos looked at him a raised eyebrow, “I’d think carefully on that. You wouldn’t want to say anything you’ll regret…”

“She’s…different Marcos. Lorna and I are different people.”

He sighed, “ _Dios mio_ , John. I do pity whoever you end up with.”

John hummed, “Oh?”

“Yeah, they’ll have to deal with your stubborn ass.”

“I thought you liked it when I was stubborn, _shik’łsn_.”

Marcos rolled his eyes fondly, taking a sip of his coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> shik’łsn- Western Apache for "brother"


	116. Alive

Lydia woke up when someone gently shook her shoulder and she opened her eyes to find Lorna looking down at her with a soft expression, holding out a change of clothing, and she was sure the other woman hadn’t missed the too-big shirt that fell to the middle of her thighs.

“Go get a shower.” Lorna motioned to the bathroom, “I’ll start cleaning up.”

Lydia swallowed, “Thank you.”

She smirked, “I’ll even keep the boys away.”

Lydia blushed, tugging on the hem as she stood and took the clothing. She was glad John and Marcos were out, even if she didn’t like the thought of him moving around so soon after all that time to fall without the fear of being overheard…

He’d been so close to dying…

She hadn’t told them of the instances his heart had stopped or the spiral it had sent her into…

_“You are not dying on me!” She charged the AED, watching as his body arched off the bed once, twice. Her vision blurred with tears and her hands were shaking, “I can’t lose you too…Please don’t leave me.”_

Lydia put a hand over her mouth.

He was alive. That was what mattered…


	117. Quiet

She changed into the clothes Lorna had given her, braiding back her hair before stuffing the dirty clothes and toiletries into her backpack and exiting the bathroom to find the hotel room free of bloody sheets and bandages and bent metal.

Lorna shouldered her bag, “You ready to go?”

She nodded, playing with the strap on her bag.

Lorna frowned, “You alright?”

Lydia smiled, sure that Lorna could see through it but didn’t care, “Just tired is all.”

Lorna hummed, “You’ll be with me today…I’ll drive.”

Lydia hoped her relief wasn’t too visible as she nodded. She’d spent enough time with John in a car and with the feelings their kiss evoked flashing through her mind over and over and over again… Maybe some distance would help.

She slid into the passenger seat of the car, catching John’s eyes as she did.

His eyes seemed to look right through her in those seconds, tawny flecks catching the sunlight, but there was more than just longing buried in those depths now. There was sadness, pain, guilt…

Lydia tore her gaze away, face bright red as she shut the door, seatbelt clicking…

This was going to be a long drive home…


	118. Reminisce

Lydia was glad for the silence. It gave her time to sort through her feelings without the intense presence that was John Proudstar, but that didn’t mean Lorna Dane was any less so, Lydia aware of eyes boring into her head.

“So, tell me about Allison.”

Lydia stiffened, “What about her?”

“How did you two meet?”

She played with her braid, “Her family had just moved to town. Her mother died in 7/15 and they wanted a fresh start. At first, I was jealous. She was pretty and smart and made friends instantly.”

“What changed?”

“My boyfriend Jackson was controlling…even abusive towards the end of our relationship.”

Lorna’s expression hardened.

“I knew it…I could see it.” Lydia felt ashamed to admit to herself, even now, that she’d stayed with someone like that just to keep up a _damn_ image, “ _Everyone_ could see it, but she was the only one to confront me.”

“What did you do?”

“Called her a jealous bitch because I had a hot boyfriend and she didn’t.” She smiled at Lorna’s snort, “I wasn’t exactly mature before everything happened.”

Lorna’s expression was pensive, “Finding out you’re a mutant…it changes you.”

“Yeah, it does.”


	119. Hallucinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for description of blood/gore. (Poor Lydia...)

Lydia was thankful that Lorna didn’t ask any more questions for a while and while the silence wasn’t outright uncomfortable, there was a feeling of anticipation. She knew the other woman had seen how she and John had been acting when they’d arrived…

She’d been curled up in the chair at his side with dried blood on her hands and a delirious John writhing on the bed, not wanting to leave for fear of his heart stopping for good. Her abilities had been going haywire from lack of sleep, the apparitions of Allison and Ian, the orderly she’d killed, had wandered around the room.

Allison’s had been a comfort, while Ian’s had been…a nightmare.

While both looked like they did the day they died, Allison’s appearance wasn’t nearly as traumatizing as Ian’s. Her screams had taken out a chunk of his head and it looked as though someone shot him with a shotgun a close range, bone and brain matter visible…

Lydia shuddered at the image, clenching her jaw. It was why she didn’t use her powers offensively. She didn’t want to take the chance of harming anyone. Seeing death wasn’t as bad as being the cause of it…


	120. Avoid

“How’s your shoulder?”

Lydia tore her gaze from the passing landscape, remembering how at home John looked in the desert and the ease with which they’d interacted with each other, even with her warning an ever-present thought…

She shoulder throbbed painfully, a reminder of just how strong John was. The first attempt to cauterize the wound had sent her flying into the dresser and Marcos clutching at his arm while Lorna pulled in metal she’d stock in their car wrap around John’s thrashing body. “It’s a little stiff, but nothing’s broken.”

“Feeling any pain?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“ _Well_ …we’ll be stopping in about twenty minutes for gas and snacks. So, if you want to grab any painkillers from their car-”

She stiffened at the thought, cutting her off, “I’ll be fine.”

Lorna frowned, seeming to bite back any questions when she returned her eyes to the road.

Lydia cursed her kneejerk reaction. She wouldn’t be able to avoid him the entire trip no matter how hard she tried and pissing off Lorna wasn’t helping. She knew she would have to talk about what happened but damn, if she wasn’t going to hold off for as long as she could…


	121. Scrutinize

John lifted his pounding head from the window when they pulled to a stop and forced his fatigued body upright, Marcos hand stopping him from opening the door. He shot his friend a half-hearted look, “Seriously?”

He snorted, “You look like shit John and can barely stand. Stay.”

John didn’t argue as the door shut, laying his head back against the glass and closing his eyes. He wished for just a moment that his skin allowed for IV needles because the headache and the nausea and the dizziness were not a fun combination even without the enhanced senses and he groaned as Lorna slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. The sound sent a spike of pain into his temple and he reached up a hand to rub at it.

“Sorry.” Her voice wasn’t apologetic in the slightest.

He sighed, “What is it, Lorna?”

“What the hell happened with you and Lydia?”

“Can we _not_ do this right now?”

She frowned, “You both have been acting…different.”

“Getting shot does tend to change a person’s behavior.”

Lorna snorted, “That’s bullshit. It’s more than just that.”

He stayed silent.

“You think I’ve missed the way she looks at you?”


	122. Demons

John didn't bother disputing anything.

“Or you her?”

He went rigid.

“I’ve been talking to Sonya.”

John flinched, “Lorna…”

“I’m not mad at you John…not for that.” Her voice had softened, “Your reasons are your own and I have always respected that. You and Sonya are my friends. All I want is to see my friends happy, whether it be with each other or someone else.” She held his gaze, “After…Gus, you pushed everyone away for so long…I don’t want to see you go through that again. You deserve happiness, John.”

His heart ached at the mention of Gus and he swallowed, remembering with cursed clarity, the scars marring her pale skin and the hollowness in her eyes when she talked about Allison and her mom and the reports of the orderly she’d killed after… He clenched his jaw, “She has her own demons, Lorna…she doesn’t need mine.”

“We all have our demons, John.” Her eyes were distant, “Having someone by your side helps.”

He nodded.

“Lydia’s strong John…she can handle it.” A sly smile, “She can handle _you_.”

John huffed out a breath and lowered his head, hoping his hair covered his burning cheeks.


	123. Push

Lorna laughed, “So something _did_ happen?”

He shook his head with a small smile, “You’re as bad as James.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to tell me?”

He frowned, the ghost of her touch running over his scalp…the scent of sage…the silky strands of her hair sliding through his fingers…John pushed the thoughts aside with a sigh, “I’d have to figure out what actually happened before I could tell you anything.”

“You’re overthinking it.”

He shrugged.

“Do you actually plan on talking to her at all during the trip back?”

He took a swig of water, “I think some distance might be a good thing…considering all that’s happened.”

“What did I just say about you pushing people away?”

“I’m not _pushing_ her away Lorna.” He looked up, “I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding me too.”

Lorna frowned, “You two are both so damn stubborn.”

He said nothing, gaze drifting out the window to a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair reflecting the sunlight through the car window and he wanted nothing more to walk over there and just talk to her, but he had to respect her silence…even if it hurt him to do so.


	124. Overwhelmed

John waited until about twenty minutes into the drive before he spoke, “No Twenty Questions?”

Marcos smirked, “Not from me.”

John nodded, leaning his head against the window and closing his eyes. He pushed his senses out, listening to her familiar heartbeat until the headache transitioned into a nauseating migraine.

He drained the bottle of water, throwing it in the back and grabbing another. He debated digging through the large first aid kit and seeing what kind of painkillers could help him sleep the best. He never took medication…not when he could just push through it, but at the moment, it was easier than trying to shut his mind off right now…

Everything throbbed and ached. The sun was too bright. The soft static of the radio was too loud. His skin felt tight and everything it touched was too coarse and all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and cover his ears because maybe then the world would go _silent_ for just a second…

Marcos’ heart rate increased in concern, his voice was a whisper, “John?”

It had been a long time since he’d felt so…overstimulated. He spoke through gritted teeth, “I’m fine, Marcos.”


	125. Exhausted

Marcos ignored him, holding his hand up, his palm alight, and made a fist three times, “We’ll stop in the next town, alright? You need to rest.”

“No, we need to keep going. We’ve already been gone too long.”

He let out a breath, keeping his voice at a whisper, “This isn’t a discussion. We don’t want a repeat of the last time.”

John winced, remembering the bruises on Sonya’s face after she’d tried waking him from a nightmare of Gus’ death. He hadn’t spoken or gone near anyone for nearly two weeks following the incident and no one had gone near him. “Alright.”

The reminder of that incident clung to him and he tried to shove back that anger and grief that had completely overtaken him then. He hadn’t seen the similarities until Marcos had mentioned it, but the image of Lydia with a gun to her head fueled that anger and he clenched his fists until his knuckles were white.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pull everything back inside his nearly indestructible skin.

The anger. The grief. The guilt. The pain.

Compartmentalize.

But Gods, he was tired of trying.

He just didn’t have the energy anymore.


	126. Precaution

Lydia looked up as a light flashed three times from Marcos and John’s car, head whipping back to the driver’s side when Lorna let out a curse and pushed down on the accelerator, “What is it? What’s going on?”

“Where’s the nearest motel?”

Sensing the urgency, she grabbed the phone from the console, “Twenty minutes.”

Lorna nodded, lips pressed into a line.

Her stomach was tying itself in knots and for once, it has nothing to do with her abilities. Her mind is racing and it takes her little time to figure out that the flashes were a warning…a code that they’d developed for a specific scenario. She glanced at the side mirror, seeing no vehicles following them. _What could it possibly-?_

That moment in the motel room where his arm had thrown her back flashed through her mind and suddenly it clicked. At the time, she hadn’t thought too hard on why Lorna had metal ready to restrain John at a moment’s notice or how they’d kept a careful distance from him since. Ice flooded her bloodstream, “What’s wrong with John?”

Lorna’s shoulders tightened, “He’s…overstimulated.”

Lydia remembered his headaches and how his self-discipline would slip and tensed.


	127. Slip

Lydia watched from a short distance away as Lorna opened the passenger side door with a wave of her hand, hating how distant they were being with John. She’d seen the same thing with Allison and Scott a couple times before she’d been…sent away.

Allison had been in such pain when Scott kept her out of arm’s reach, eyes tortured as every noise made by her caused him to tense and move further away. It was that same look in Lorna and Marcos’ eyes when he slowly walked past.

She was torn, wanting to help him when he stumbled, but then she’d watched the metal of the railing gave under his weight like it was nothing and the rational part of her quickly took control.

He would break her without even trying.

She kept an eye on him while Marcos paid for the room, catching Lorna’s eyes. Lydia could tell this had happened before. The caution was born from an experience that she wasn’t sure she’d ever hear about.

He’d put his chin to his chest, closing his eyes.

Lydia recognized the meditative breathing exercise she’d taught to Scott, the tension easing.

He knew what he was doing.

_Hopefully._


	128. Before

Lydia held the door open for him.

Watching him walk past was like watching a ghost: pale, hollow, lost…

He didn’t look at anyone, his expression taut with pain as he lowered himself onto one of the beds and laid down with such care, like everything her came into contact with was made of glass. Resting an arm over his eyes, his body went completely still save for the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Lorna lightly tugged on her arm, motioning to the door with her head.

She followed them out, sparing John one more glance before the door shut.

No one said anything until they’d parked at a restaurant across the street, Lydia absently stirring her ice water. She frowned down into her glass, watching the condensation gather on the surface and run down the sides… “This has happened before…hasn’t it?”

The two shared a look, Marcos speaking, “It happened about a year ago.”

“He had a…friend, Gus, that he’d served with.” Lorna’s tone said _more than friends_ but she didn’t linger on it. “We were rescuing mutants from a detention center when he was shot down by Sentinel Services.”

And suddenly, Lydia understood perfectly.


	129. Lash

Losing someone that you cared deeply for, someone that you _loved_ , in front of you would cause anyone to lose control of their emotions…to lash out at the world because everything hurt and nothing made sense because that person was _gone_. Lydia knew firsthand the damage an emotional mutant’s abilities could do and John’s abilities could be…destructive.

She didn’t ask for anything more, knowing what Lorna had insinuated. That was John’s story to tell if he ever wanted to and while Lydia knew that what was happening now wasn’t that bad, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for causing something similar. “Is he going to be okay?”

Lorna almost looked relieved, probably because Lydia hadn’t asked for any clarification on the true nature of John and Gus’ relationship, “He’ll be fine. We just need to give him some time.”

She nodded, not missing the _keep your distance_ underlain in her words. Lydia understood the warning and the reason behind it, but John hadn’t left her side after Allison so she wasn’t going to leave his side if he was in pain because of something _she_ caused, regardless of their warnings.

They would find her stubbornness equal to theirs.


	130. Stay

She sat in the corner of the room, refusing to leave when Lorna and Marcos left for another “supply run”. Lydia was sure they just wanted to give John as much silence as they could before they got back on the road tomorrow.

Lydia quickly realized the downside to her plane, though: she had nothing to do.

She couldn’t sit there and stare at him. That was creepy.

Would drawing be too loud? Reading?

“I can hear you thinking from here.”

Her eyes snapped up and she could see the small smile from underneath his arm. She shifted weight in the chair, letting out a long breath and speaking as softly as she could, “Are you a telepath now?”

He snorted, “Just know you.”

Lydia blushed.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

She shook her head, “You’re stuck with me.”

He was silent for a minute and Lydia thinks she may have said something wrong but he cleared his throat, “There’s a bottle of pills in the side pocket of the backpack on the desk. Could you grab two of them and some water?”

She grabbed the bottle, reading the label. _Hypnovel?_

**Author's Note:**

> An edit I made that loosely inspired this fic: [John & Lydia | Faded](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bOwyRrfvQsU=)


End file.
